


Living Broken Adjacent

by LittleAngelCassie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Comedy, Depression, Drama, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Love Story, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Self-Discovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Tattoo Castiel, Tattoo Dean, Top Castiel, Top Dean, mentions of self harm, minor character death (past), past references to abuse, psych ward au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 135,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleAngelCassie/pseuds/LittleAngelCassie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunt/Capture/Celebrate/Repeat.  Dean Winchester’s world in four words: simple with no fuss.  He’s not had a single, life-altering moment in the 13 years since he joined his dad as a professional bounty hunter.  Why fix what’s not broken?</p><p>That is, until everything around Dean comes to a screeching halt, leaving him alone in new surroundings.  Suddenly, Dean’s forced to live in his own version of the Cuckoo’s Nest with the biter, the licker, and the joker.  Where angels abound, and his roommate’s haunting blue eyes make him wonder about all his past choices.  He’s got this no problem, right?  WRONG!<br/>Who knew laughter and love could be found within the dull, institutional walls of a psychiatric hospital, teaching Dean that no one is ever truly broken, but sometimes you simply find yourself lost and stumbling through a life where you are living</p><p> …broken adjacent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to all my lovely readers. I'M BACK!!
> 
> First, a big thank you to the amazing ladies that keep my grammar and wild imagination in check; the stunning Shawnie, spectacular Mari, and wonderful Kelly! Without y'all I'd never post a word.
> 
> WARNING: Just a heads up to those with triggers. This is a story set in a Psychiatric Hospital. I have marked the major triggers in the tags and will tag chapters when it gets rough. Please feel free to ask question with any concerns.
> 
> I PROMISE A HAPPY ENDING!!

 

Who looks outside, dreams.

Who looks inside, awakens.

                                -C. G. Jung

 

Blonde hair feels like silk as Dean drags his fingers through the wavy locks, the scent of vanilla extract from baking pies remains permanently on her skin, kind, loving arms surrounding him in a tight, warm hug; these are the memories Dean wants to have of his mother. Happy things like her bright, cheerful smile or the high-pitched ring in her laughter.  Unfortunately, the further he falls into the pits of inebriation, the more his recollections turn ominous.

To drown them both out, Dean swallows another white pill, chasing it with a shot of whiskey. If he fucks himself up enough, maybe he’ll simply move to the unconscious portion of the evening, fast-forwarding past the nightmares.  His head drops to the solid support of wood, maybe a bar or possibly a table; Dean doesn’t really care.

The vision is always the same. A little boy, barefoot, dressed in Kermit the Frog pajamas, wandering down the dark, silent hallway.  “Mommy?” he calls, but never hears an answer.  The kitchen light is bright on his eyes, so he turns away, barely catching the body on the floor with corner of his eye.  “Mommy?”  The woman is sprawled across the green, cracked linoleum, a chair overturned next to her. 

Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes, Dean squats down next to the lady, taking her hand into his. Her flesh is still warm, the vanilla bouquet kicking up from the movement.  He stops asking for her, realizing that she’s sleeping with her eyes open.  Dean is a patient 6-year-old; he will wait for his mother to wake from her slumber.

Two days later, with a toddling Sam by his side, their father will find them, Mommy still motionless on the floor.

“Man, you can’t sleep here.” The hands are rough and calloused. 

Dean shrugs off the touch, “Get off me,” he grunts, his brain still lost in the memories of his childhood, unable to catch up with the present. “I need to stay with her.”

“Who?” The shove is harsher, knocking Dean to the ground.  “You’re way past the limit buddy.  If you don’t leave I’m calling the cops.”

“NO!” Dean screams, his eyes still hooded, his mind far from reality. “She’s still warm. If I stay long enough, she will wake up.”  His fingers tighten into a fist.  This time will be different; his mother will wake, and it will all have been a terribly bad dream.

A strike hits his cheek, ringing in his ears. “Get the fuck out, you piece of shit.  Your sleeping beauty is dead.”

All Dean can see is red. Rage floods through his body like a violent river.  In a substance induced frenzy, Dean begins throwing punches until the darkness swallows him whole.

****

Thump. Thump.  Thump. 

Dean can’t decide which is worse, the relentless banging from somewhere unidentified or the foul stench of urine permeating through the air. He takes a few shallow breaths, battling the spinning sensation in his mind. In a rush of courage Dean flutters his eyelids open, but then uses his hand to cover them, trying to keep his stomach from expelling all contents. 

Hangovers were obviously created by the devil himself!

Carefully scanning the space around him, Dean attempts to solve the mystery of his current location. It is a gift from the heavens that the room is swimming in shadows; however, he can still make out black steel bars, a filthy toilet, an unused cot, and a delightful choice of cement flooring for which he is lying upon. 

“Jail,” he sighs to no one in particular, “fucking awesome.”

Dean doesn’t have a single coherent thought in his mind right now.  He’s totally going on survival instincts; hence, moving off the revolting floor isn’t even in the cards.  Instead, he rolls onto his back, glancing up at the drab black painted ceiling.  The crunching of his stiff jeans as they jostle about is not an encouraging sound.  This is not the first time Dean Winchester has found himself in such a position after a night of drinking and debauchery.  Although the 29 year old can usually recall at least flashes, he pauses, willing his brain to provide even an inkling of useful information.  Several minutes later, Dean is simply impressed he remembers his name and age.

His throat screams with the need for liquid, coercing him to sit up in search of something to drink. As he suspected, a small, silver sink is positioned just to the left of the toilet.  Now comes the next dire question for the day, is he thirsty enough to sip from said spout, knowing the ungodly amount of nastiness that could have been washed in there?

Eyeballs that feel glued to his eyelids and a tongue that could double for a dry sponge provide pretty fast answers. Clearly pride left the building around the time Dean pissed in his pants, so he crawls over to the deplorable excuse for a water fountain and gulps down the wet elixir from hell.

Once his thirst is sated, Dean plants his palms on the wall, urging his limbs to keep him balanced. The rocking boat syndrome of his hangover is in full effect.

Glancing down at his disheveled appearance, Dean mentally ticks off that his leather jacket, wallet, Bounty Hunter ID, and cell phone are missing; not surprising given his imprisonment. The soft, black t-shirt and green Henley are smothered in stains of varying levels of gross, not to mention the urine drying on his jeans.

“Shit!” he whispers to the pathetic vision of himself in the small, broken mirror hanging above the sink. Dean will have to remain in these clothes until his dad bails him out.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Suddenly the disturbance that pulled him from his alcoholic coma catches his attention again. Stumbling over to the wall of bars that separate his cell from the one next to him, Dean slants heavily into the steel, glad that the bars can keep him vertical.  A strange gentleman sits striking his shoe on the floor in an even beat.

“Hey, man,” Dean calls out, wincing as his brain lashes out in fury at the noise coming from his own throat. “Where the fuck am I?”

The guy pauses his perfectly timed banging while pivoting to face Dean with a sly grin, “Isn’t it painfully obvious?” he retorts, waving his hand around their lovely accommodation.

Winchester rolls his eyes, “I realize I’m in lock-up, dumbass, but what city?”

“Just my luck,” the statement dripping in sarcasm, “stupid questions from a tatted jerk first thing in the morning?”

With his long sleeves, most of Dean’s body art remains hidden; however, the two tattoos on his neck are visible: a weaving noose crawls up his right side, while an antique colt revolver rests on the left. Flashing the stranger a sassy faux smile, he tries again, “I just want to know where I landed so when I get my phone call, I can tell my dad where to pick me up.”

The other man bursts out in a loud cackle that trills at Dean’s nerves. “I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon, man.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo. Everyone gets a phone call once they sober up.”  Dean rubs at the bridge of his nose, desperately hoping that aspirin will be provided soon.

“Oh the Sheriff here is very by the book. You’ll get that call, but I suggest you use it for a lawyer.  I was there when they booked you, and trust me, they won’t be releasing you in the foreseeable future.”

“Last night is a total blank. What the hell did I do?”  He rests his forehead on the cold bar, praying that the charges won’t be anything serious. 

Depending on which state he’s in, he could be in some real deep shit. There are several states across the country with the three strikes rule for aggravated assault.  He tries to keep track of which ones not to hit lucky number three in, because a prison sentence will screw with his bounty hunter license, especially in the few states that have stricter regulations.  “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Ephraim.” The guy sticks his hand through the bars so Dean can shake it.

He mouths the name finding it weird on his tongue.

“I know, oddball name. Clearly you haven’t been hanging out in our tiny city for very long, because they get worse.”

“What, do all the pregnant ladies have a crappy naming competition or something?”

Ephraim winks, shaking his head, “Stay here long enough, someone will tell you all about the darker side of our community, but I’m not that person.”

“Am I supposed to be curious about the shadowy past of a town that names their kids like,” Dean gesturing towards the man, “what exactly?”

“Angels.” The other prisoner answers, crossing his arms defensively.  “Ex-Heavenly hosts abound here.”

Stepping back to rub at his temples, Dean pleads, “Seriously, I could care less about angels, now, city and state would be extremely helpful.”

“Well, Dean Winchester, and yes, I know your name, let me be the first to welcome you to Little Falls, Minnesota.”  

Dean’s entire world comes crashing down around him. “FUUUUUCK!” he yells to the ceiling as he drops onto the cot.  Glaring at his jeans, Dean can easily imagine the orange jumpsuit he will be wearing next. 

Both men start when a heavy door swings open, revealing a jovial looking deputy, “How you two doing this fine morning?” The query said in a thick Minnesota accent.

“Peachy, Deputy Doug,” Ephraim sighs, crossing back to his cot, “Can I go now?”

“Nope, I’m here to collect Mr. Winchester.” The officer swings passed Ephraim’s cage to Dean’s, with a skip in his step.  “It appears our own personal ‘Max Rager’ addict has friends in high places.”

Confusion is evident all over his face as Dean shoots his eyebrows up, “Huh?”

“Really?” Doug scrunches his nose questioningly, “Haven’t you even heard of the CW?  iZombie…the drink that makes people rage out like zombies…”

“Of course, I don’t live under a rock, but what do you mean high places? I know zero people in this Podunk town.”

“I believe our Judge Moore would disagree. He just set up a plea deal with your brother while you were taking a little nap.”  Deputy Doug unlocks his cell, moving back so Dean can step out.

“Sam’s here?” Then the name of the city sinks in, well, his absolute lack of any awareness of the existence of said place and why he would be in it does at least.

The officer nods, “Been here since 5am prepping paperwork for your transfer, but I’m under strict orders to say nothing. Simply lead you to your lawyer.”

Ephraim pipes up from his cot, “Damn, you have a brother who’s a lawyer?”

“I’ve found milk in my house with a longer life than his law career.” Dean snorts derisively and with that, he follows the deputy out, wishing his dad had shown up and not Sam.

The two brothers have a strained relationship on a good day. A Christmas tree in the center of the bullpen reminds Dean why he’s in Minnesota to begin with.  The goal of spending a nice holiday with Sam and his wife Jess obviously went to shit fast.

Now, as he winds through the station, it all comes back to him in a windfall of memories. Dean showing up unannounced, Christmas Eve morning on Sam’s doorstep in St. Paul, Jess inviting him to join them for the night, then onward north to Little Falls, where her parents live, to celebrate Christmas Day.  He remembers being forced to watch the constant smothering of domestic bliss around him, causing Dean to break out in hives; hence, his decision to hike it to the closest bar that was open.  There he made quick friends with several other “Grinches” as the group took rounds of whiskey and popped Oxy, his personal fave.  What happened after the third or fourth round remains a mystery.

He enters a small interview room with a metal table and two chairs; one is already occupied by his baby brother, dressed in a smart tailored grey suit. For siblings, the two men couldn’t be more opposite.  The only thing they have in common is the protection tattoo over their heart in honor of their mother Mary.  Her death, even at their young ages, was probably a truly defining moment of the men they would become.  Years later it would be the catalyst to Dean dropping out of school Junior year to become a bounty hunter apprentice under their father’s watchful eye.  Sam did the unthinkable, graduating high school with honors, and went the distance finishing both undergrad and law school in record time.

“Take a seat, Dean.” Sam’s voice is all business, his eyes never leaving the papers before him.

Obeying the order, Dean slumps into the free chair, snagging the bottle of water and aspirin on the table and sucking it down in one go. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the eldest brother asks, “What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?” Sam’s gaze finally lifting to peer at Dean.

He shrugs with a noncommittal grunt, “I was definitely drunk with maybe a dash of Oxy’s. The goal was not to make lasting memories.”

“I’m sorry that spending the holidays with Jess and I sent you to the bottom of a liquor bottle.”

Dean rubs his eyes harshly, “God, Sammy, it’s not like that. I just needed a break from all the family cheer.”

“Okay, so you left Jess’s parents' holiday party early, catching a ride with her cousin, and several hours later was arrested for attempted murder.”

“Attempted what?” Dean’s head snaps up because holy shit! “Sometimes I get into a few bar brawls, but this must be a trumped up charge.”

“Dean, I went and found several witnesses, all of whom say the same thing… you would have taken the young man’s life if the Sheriff hadn’t pulled you off herself.” Sam gives him a stern expression, “If Sheriff Hanscum hadn’t recognized my last name and called Jess’s dad, you would be on your way to an arraignment hearing that would eventually lead you to a jail sentence of three to five years.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to send him a thank you note.” Dean leans back clapping his hands, “So instead, what did I get, like a crap ton of community service and a fine?”

“No.”

The older brother should be jumping for joy, but something about Sam’s inability to meet his eyes has the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He tentatively inquires, “Am I free to go?”

“Absolutely not. I decided on your behalf to take a plea deal that will only give you 8 months and no record.”

“Way to go, Sammy.” Dean’s grin explodes over his face.  “This is awesome.  I can totally do 8 months with no problem, but how are you getting my record expunged after?”

His baby brother raises his hand pointing his finger at Dean, “There will be utterly no record of the assault if you agree to one condition.”

“Sure, what is it?” Dad will barely miss him over 8 months, and no record means all his state licenses will remain legit.  This couldn’t have worked out better.

“You have to do your time in a psychiatric hospital.”

Silence settles in the room, nearly strangling Dean with panic. “No way.  Go back and change the deal.  I will take 3 to 5 over even one minute in the looney bin.”

“Can’t do that, Dean, you’re being admitted on a 220 with zero chance of reversal.” Sam flips through some papers, “The sheriff will handle your transfer immediately.”

“Fuck my life.” The older brother whines as he flops his forehead onto the chilly metal table. 

A 220 is police code for involuntary commitment. Dean has absolutely no say in the matter.  Finally he lifts his gaze to stare at Sam, “Why are you doing this?  Dad would have bailed me out eventually.”

A raw glare of anger builds in Sam’s eyes as he speaks, “John Winchester is a deplorable leech, sucking your entire life away from you. Traveling from job to job across the country is no way to live long term, Dean.  Jess and I both think this will be good for you.  It’s my hope that after 8 months of sobering up and focusing on you, and not being a mini-John, you will finally step out from beneath his shadow.”

“I do not hide behind Dad!” Dean yells with an uneasy croak to his voice. “He’s going to come looking for me, possibly attempt to bust me out.”

“I am aware, but he will fail.” Sam nervously stretches his hand out to pat Dean’s.  “Let me give you this, Dean, to repay everything you did for me growing up.  Just promise me you will take the program seriously?”

Rolling his shoulders, Dean ignores the tightening in his gut at the almost endearing moment between the two brothers, “I’m not promising a thing, Sammy.”

Sam’s shoulders drop in defeat, “Of course not.”

“Umm, do you think I might get to head back to Jess’s parents’ house to shower and change?” He motions to his disheveled clothes, the stench of urine on his pants makes his stomach roll.

“No. Like I said, once I leave, you’re headed over to the psych care facility about 30 minutes north on the edge of town.  Jess has packed up your things; they will be waiting at the hospital for you.”

Dean chuckles coldly, “Why do I feel like you're dropping me off at summer camp?”

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Dean. This is your chance to straighten out.”  Sam sighs leaning into his chair, “Next time I won’t help you.”

“No one asked you to help, Sammy!” Dean shouts, slamming his fist on the table. “Just go back to your perfect white fence life and completely forget about your fuck-up of a brother.”

“Dean -”

A blonde woman in a sheriff’s uniform enters the room with a bubbly grin. Her words also doused in a thick Minnesotan accent, “Alrighty then, who’s ready for a road trip up to Heavenly Host?”

“Jesus, where the hell are you sending me?”

Sam answers while putting away the file on Dean, “Heavenly Host Psychiatric Hospital is where you will be spending the next 8 months.”

“What kind of person names a nut house Heavenly?”

“Oh, you…” the woman smacks his shoulder, “it’s named after the religious group that owned the land before the state took it over.” Then it’s like the lady remembered her manners, “Oh, so hello.  I’m Sheriff Donna Hanscum.”

“Great.”

****

The drive north is quiet. Dean lets his gaze fall to the snow-covered hills as he zooms past them.  Rays of sunshine bounce off the white drifts, coercing Winchester to squint his eyes.  Hanscum didn’t make him wear handcuffs, but just riding in the back of a squad car makes Dean anxious.

“What’s this place like?” He asks, wanting even a glimmer of insight into his new residence.

“Oh dear, are you scared?” the sheriff asks in a kind tone. “They will take good care of you here, I promise.”

“No, I’m not scared, just curious is all.” He huffs trying to hide his nerves.

Hanscum bounces her blonde hair softly, “Sure, I believe you.”

Driving over a large ridge, Dean gets his first glimpse of the psychiatric hospital. Two imposing white towers lift to the cloud sprinkled sky.  The dousing of snow gives the building an eerie, ghost-like effect.  Behind the hospital, the icy Mississippi River flows south into town.  Dean zips up his leather jacket, trying to stave off the shivers running up his spine.

A lanky looking dude with a prominent nose stands on the curb outside the massive building, waving as the squad car approaches.

Once the vehicle stops, Sherriff Hanscum hops out, wandering over to shake the guys hand before opening Dean’s door. “Mr. Winchester, this is Garth Fitzgerald, one of the lead counselors here at Heavenly Host.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean. Welcome.” 

Dean simply jerks his head in comprehension as he feels the pit of his stomach drop out entirely. He is not ready for this, not at all.  There isn’t even a chance to voice his concerns as Donna jumps back in her cruiser pulling away without even a goodbye.

Garth pats Dean’s shoulder, tugging him towards the two glass doors. “I know this has been quite a transitional morning for you, but first I need to perform an intake evaluation and health check before taking you up to your floor.”

“Listen, can I please take a shower?” Winchester begs.

The sliding glass doors swoosh closed behind them, cutting off access to fresh air. One whiff and Garth coughs, acknowledging Dean’s predicament.  “Normally it’s a couple of hours of us chatting and some blood work before we let you onto the floor with the other patients, but maybe this time we can change things up.”

“Oh God, thank you. I will spill my entire life story for a shower and clean pants.”

“Lucky for you, Jess Winchester dropped off your stuff at my place this morning before I came into work, so your things have already been searched and cleared.” Garth pauses next to a reception desk, grabbing the familiar duffel.  The counselor nods to a high-strung lady who literally looks like she could vibrate out of her seat, “Hey, Becky, I’m just going to take Dean upstairs and do his intake paperwork after he showers.”

The woman responds with a weird squeaking noise, then, “That’s against the rules, Garth. I will have to report you to Dr. Shurley.”

“Do what you feel is right, Becky. Follow me, Dean.”  They step into an empty elevator as Garth swipes a key card over a locking mechanism and pushes 4. 

Watching the doors glide shut, Dean takes his final breath as a free man. Unfortunately, his stench is not something he will recall with fondness.  He shifts apprehensively as they climb upward to his new home.

Garth shoots him a genuine comforting grin, “Don’t worry, Dean, this is a place for healing. I think you may come to like it here.  Your roommate has spent all morning getting your side clean and prepped.”

God, Dean hasn’t had a roommate other than Dad since he was 16. “What’s the guy’s name?”

“Castiel.”

 


	2. Lost but Found

* * *

 

As a safety precaution, Dean’s the only one in the shower room. Garth is standing guard outside while Winchester puts himself back together again. The towel drying Dean’s hair has that institutional stiffness that scratches with each swipe. He has the sudden stomach clenching realization that it will be 8 months until he feels the supple, Downy softness of a fluffy towel on his skin. How many more things will add to the list before his stint in crazy town is over?

Opposite the four shower stalls stand as many sinks and a large mirror running the length above them hangs misted in condensation. Dean uses the side of his hand to wipe away the fog so he can get a proper look at himself. The cleanup did him good. His face has lost that sickly green hue. Snatching his black eyeliner from his duffel, Dean goes to work putting on his war paint. There is something vulnerable about not having thick, dark lines surrounding his eyes.

Once he’s done, Dean steps back to admire his work. His gaze wanders down his naked skin, taking in his detailed body art that he’s been adding to for the last 13 years. A grand oak tree starts low on his gut, the roots twining over his hips, the trunk and branches flowing up to his chest. Over the years, names, pictures, and quotes have been imbedded into the bark and leaves. The protection symbol is now surrounded by auburn leaves spelling out Mary Winchester. At the center of the massive oak is an oval hole, waiting for that one name, the person who will finally fill the void his mother left. There have been several contenders, but no one worthy.

Perhaps in the land of angels he might find the one.

“Shit.” Dean whispers to his reflection.

The weight of what is happening suddenly hits him hard, prison would have been easier. Yes, he would probably have to give up his job as a bounty hunter, but being here makes his flesh crawl. Just like the layers of his tree tattoo, Dean has locked away so much of his past; the thought of ripping it open terrifies him. He’s fairly certain that’s what happens in these places. A shrink will crack open his skull and pry out all the thoughts and feelings he has spent 29 years repressing.

Too late now, he admits to himself, snatching a clean pair of black boxer-briefs, dark faded jeans, grey t-shirt, and red plaid flannel. His pants hang low on his hips because Garth confiscated his belt. All the shoe strings on his boots are gone too, so Dean chooses to walk out barefoot. What does it matter anyway? The weather is crap, so he won’t be going outside for a long while. Maybe Sam will take pity on him and send some slippers.

“Don’t you look fresh as a daisy?” Garth announces as Dean exits the shower room.

He scrunches his face in disgust at being compared to a fucking daisy, lifting his duffel, “Is there a place I can toss this while we do the chatting stuff?”

“We can leave it at the nurse’s station for now.” Garth takes the bag, turning to walk back towards the hall’s entrance.

It seems that the 4th floor is a locked ward. When he and Garth first arrived, they went through three different, secured steel doors to get to the hallway where he will be living. The counselor pauses outside of a small room which is encased with bullet proof glass on three sides.

A blonde woman in green hospital scrubs unlocks a 2 by 2 window, flinging it open. “How they hanging, Garth?”

“Not too bad, Ruby,” Garth answers, then swings his hands to point at Dean. “This here is your new patient, Dean Winchester. Can you store his duffel while I finish his intake interview?”

Nurse Ruby’s eyes drag up Dean’s body, making him squirm a little, “Wow, I must have been a very good girl this year for such a fine Christmas present.”

The counselor pats Dean’s elbow, “Ignore her. She’s just a harmless flirt.”

Garth hands over the bag, motioning for Dean to follow him out a door that swings open with a swipe of the counselor’s ID badge. Winchester complies, silently wishing his jeans were less snug because he has no doubt that Nurse Ruby is gawking at his ass.

“Hurry back, sweetheart!” she calls out.

Once they are through a second locked door, Garth stops in a large room. There are two institutional looking sofas, and three rectangular tables with 4 hardback chairs each. The walls are an awful bland taupe, and the only two windows have thick bars across the front.

“Take a seat anywhere you like, Dean. We can talk here until they need to set up for lunch.”

His stomach growls with the thought of food. Dean hasn’t eaten yet today, and his body is not happy about it. “So, this is the dining room?”

“Yes, and the visitor reception, so we just call it the common area or commons. If you have visitors during your stay, you can interact with them here.”

With one swipe of his eyes, Dean has noticed at least two cameras with microphones. Clearly the meetings with friends and families are monitored.

Garth continues speaking as the two men sit at the closest table. “At the other end of the hall is the media room where the TV, games, and art activities are kept. We also have our daily group therapy session in that room.”

“Great, sounds like a blast.” Dean watches as Garth pulls out a clipboard and pen. “What about one on one sessions?”

“Those will be with Dr. Shurley down on the first floor where his office is located. All residents under his care meet with him 2 to 5 times a week, depending on need.”

“And my need will be…?” Dean inquires, unconsciously chewing on his lower lip.

The counselor taps his trusty clipboard, “That’s what today’s convo will decide.”

“Then by all means…” Dean replies, crossing his arms tightly. “Let’s get this shit-show on the road.”

Garth gives a curt nod, “Tell me about yourself, Dean.”

“Okay,” he pauses to the back of his neck. “I was born January 24th in Lawrence, Kansas. My parents had a happy marriage, even though my dad travelled a lot for work. Four years later, Sam was born.” No matter how hard he battles it, there remains a hitch to his voice as he says the next sentence. “My mother died when I was 6 and Sam was 2.”

“I’m sorry for your pain. How did she pass?”

Dean despises talking about his mother. Even decades later the look of pity he receives burns into his retinas, lighting the rage that has never left. Glancing down at his hands, he balls his fists, wishing to be anywhere but here at the moment.

“She had a fatal accident,” the words barely slipping out over his grinding jaw.

“Really?” Garth asks, his smile faltering. “Your brother gives a very different story. According to Sam, your mother took her own life while both of you slept.”

“She mixed up some of her meds with a glass of wine. It was an accident!” Dean slams his hand down on the table between them, the hit sending a throbbing sensation down his arm.

The veteran counselor doesn’t even flinch, keeping his cool, “Let’s re-visit that later.” After scribbling some notes on the damn form, “How would you describe your relationship with your father?”

“My father is a great man, and I’m proud to be his son.”

“You work together as bounty hunters?” Garth scratches his nose.

Describing his dad and their work is something he can comfortably do. “Yes, it’s a family business passed down for three generations. I started as soon as I could legally drop out of high school.”

“That seems a bit young for fugitive apprehension?”

“Back then you didn’t even need a license. Nobody cared as long as you brought them the bond jumper. I worked as his apprentice, and we got jobs simply by our name.” Dean felt his shoulders rise as he speaks. “The past ten years, we have been the go-to guys for dangerous and difficult extractions.”

Tilting forward, the counselor digs a little deeper, “Can you describe how you feel?”

“What do you mean?” The question throws him for a loop. Feelings good or bad have never been in the equation for Dean.

“You can elaborate, or just say the first emotion or word that pops in your head? There is no wrong answer here, Dean.”

Dean digs his fingertips into the wooden table, watching the flesh under his nails go white from the pressure. He croaks out a soft reply, “I don’t know, lost maybe.”

“Lost,” Garth repeats, writing it down, “I like that word. Says a lot, don’t you think?” The counselor pauses, letting the idea fester in his bones before moving on, “When I spoke with Sam this morning, he gave me a brief description of the events that brought you here; however, I want to hear them in your words.”

Taking a moment to think, Dean lowers his gaze, staring at the wooden table. The piece is clearly old with varying graffiti written and carved into the sides and top. His eyes focus on a sentence that has been deeply imbedded into the wood, and then scribbled over with pen as if someone wrote over it almost daily for years.

_Heaven is a place in hell._

He traces the words with his finger trying to decipher why someone would make such an analogy. Did the person who left their mark for all to see mean this hospital, or something else? Garth watches Dean, but does nothing to push the man into revealing anything more.

Eventually, after several minutes, Winchester ponders, “What’s with the names around here? Heavenly Hosts, Ephraim, Castiel?”

Garth shrugs, accepting the change in direction, “There was a strict religious group that lived on this very land for over fifty years called ‘The Heavenly Hosts’. They held the belief that they were descendants of actual living angels. Children who were born to members were given angelic names by their leader, Michael.”

Halting his movement, Dean glances up, “Dude, how insane were they?”

“Very,” Garth answers, then catches himself, “We are getting off topic here. All you need to know is that when you meet your roommate and the many other survivors, tread lightly.”

Suddenly the door towards the elevators swings open, and two people pushing carts enter. The first one is in the same scrubs as nurse Ruby, but her hair is a dark chocolate. The guy pushing the second cart behind her is wearing red sweatpants, a neon purple t-shirt, and what appear to be green rubber sandals. His hair is just a tad darker than Dean’s, and messy as hell.

“Hey, Garth!” the new guy yells. “Me and Ruby 2.0 have lunch, you staying?”

The woman ignores the interaction, but dramatically rolls her eyes as she places covered dishes onto the tables.

“No, I’ve got a load of paperwork to file on this guy,” Garth answers, pointing between the two men, “Dean Winchester, this is Gabriel. He lives on the 4th floor and can help show you the ropes.”

Immediately, Dean catches the name and shakes Gabriel’s hand with a tentative touch; however, he’s a complete idiot as he queries, “No last name?”

“Nothing I care to associate with so you can call me Gabriel, Gabe, or sexy mother fucker ‘cause I’ll answer to all three.”

“Okay,” he squeaks pulling back his hand.

The counselor saves the day by breaking the weird tension, “Hey, Gabriel, I’ll help Ruby the 2nd set up lunch. Why don’t you take Dean on a quick tour of the hall?”

“As you wish, Captain my Captain,” Gabriel states, saluting Garth. “I am here to serve.”

“Good.” Garth walks over to the carts, grabbing a cup of plastic sporks.

Dean can’t help but ask, “Why the nice porcelain plates, cloth napkins, and silver trays, but cheap white plastic sporks?”

Gabriel becomes completely serious, “Have you ever seen someone kill a man with a proper spoon?”

“No.” Dean ventures quietly.

“Neither have I, because we eat with God damned plastic sporks.” With that, Gabriel tosses back his head, laughing maniacally. “This way, handsome.”

His new hall mate stands by the door, waving at one of the cameras. Three seconds later, a buzzer sounds and the door unlocks, allowing them to enter. Gabriel does the same thing with the next one, giving them access to the ward.

Ruby throws open her window as they pass, “Gabriel, you didn’t take your meds this morning. Here! Now!”

“Aww, don’t report me for it.” The bubbly dude springs over to take a little white cup from the nurse.

The last time Dean was here, everyone was in group so the hall was quiet. This time, men are wandering about, probably waiting for their lunch or something. The hallway is your typical hospital affair; white walls with white linoleum. There are eight doors on either side, spanning the entire length, leading to a wall of windows and French double doors which are thrown open. Dean assumes this is the media room. Not used to his new surroundings, Winchester startles a bit when Gabriel returns. The guy is a head shorter than Dean, and moves like a fucking ninja.  

“Calm down, most of them won’t bite. Except Benny, but it’s been nearly two weeks, so he’s on an upswing.” Gabriel nods towards the square office of windows, “That’s the nurse’s station, and our lovely head nurse today is Ruby 1.0.”

“Why do you call them Ruby 1.0 and 2.0?”

“Because the blonde was here first, what should we call the brunette, Chrissy?” Gabriel winks like his reasoning is perfectly sane and starts down the hallway. He points to the first door on the left, “Shower room, but I think you know that one.”

“Yes.” Dean nods.

“Across from that is the tub room. Showers are always open for use, but the tub room has to be unlocked by an orderly or nurse. Some of us might be tempted to hold our breath a little too long, if you know what I mean.”

“Umm, ok.” Dean decides to never use that room, like, ever.

“The ward can house up to 12 guys. Currently, with you, we are at eleven and using 8 rooms because not everyone is roommate material.”

They pass the patients’ rooms. The ones on the right have a single bed, and the ones on the left are clearly doubles. Every door has a large black number painted on the outside. When they reach 7, Gabriel stops.

“This is you, big guy.” Instead of ushering Dean into his new home, the shorter man turns to face him. The humor from his jovial face completely dissipates. “Your new roommate is my baby brother, Castiel. I’ve known him his entire life and I’m already in the cuckoo’s nest, so killing you is totally an option. Castiel had it the hardest growing up; treat him like a baby kitten, got it?”

“Why don’t you room with him?” Seriously, Dean has no problem snagging Gabe’s single room.

“I have nocturnal emission issues that would disturb his rest.” Gabriel cracks a grin while bouncing his eyebrows.

Winchester quickly promises himself to never ask what he meant by that, “Is Castiel at least semi-quiet?”

He was not expecting Gabe to burst out laughing in response. Just then, a younger kid with dark eyes and long, shaggy hair that reaches the nape of his neck saunters by, reading a book, “Hey, Kevin, the new guy wants to know if Cassie is at least semi-quiet?”

Kevin pauses to look up and squint at Dean, “You have been informed that Castiel is mute, right?”

“Obviously not,” Dean spits out. “Like, he chooses not to talk, or actually can’t talk?”

Patting his shoulder, Gabe takes pity on him, “Castiel is capable of speaking, he just doesn’t. Use to be quite the chatterbox when he was younger, but shit happens. Why don’t you go in and introduce yourself. I’ll wait for you out here. Lunch should be called in, like, a couple minutes, so you won’t have to be in there long. Some people find his stare a bit… disconcerting.”

Never in his 29 years of existence has Dean Winchester dreaded entering a new room. He’s a bounty hunter for Christ’s sake. He knocks doors down with a kick, and tackles whatever he finds inside; yet, this seems more terrifying than taking down 10-armed men.

However, if he’s going to make it through the next 8 months, he will need to make nice with the roommate. Dean inhales deeply, blowing the stress out with a puff of air before stepping inside his new digs.

He’s not surprised to find the room plain and institutional looking. Each side mirrors the other; there is a freestanding wooden closet, followed by the bed, and in the corner, a small desk. Between the two desks on the far wall is a large window with steel bars on the outside. Grey, blackout curtains are pulled back to let the sunshine in as it spills onto the black, linoleum floor. His duffel sits on the bed to the right, so that must be his side. A single door just past the foot of his bed leads to a tiny bathroom with a toilet and sink.

Dean nearly jumps, and most definitely lets out a small yelp when he turns to face the opposite side of the room. Castiel is sitting on the floor, tucked behind the end of his own bed. The man’s legs are crossed, his eyes closed, the only movement that tells Dean he’s alive is the rise and fall of his chest.

Unlike the other residents who are wearing normal, although sadly chosen street clothes, Castiel is in a white set of scrubs. A pair of filthy, off white Tom’s rest next to him, and a tan trench coat is tossed over his bed. What catches Dean’s attention first are the breathtaking tattoo’s spanning over both of Castiel’s arms. Dark, bold crimson flowers wind down his limbs, with beautifully detailed bumble bees mixed into the design. The vivid vibrancy of the flowers are offset by older, fading tattoos that seem out of place amongst the petals. Split across his forearms, written in bold lettering is the haunting sentence ‘AN ANGEL OF THE LORD’, and his right hand is adorned with a Celtic cross. A single piercing sits just below his bottom lip, and tiny silver hoops hang in both his ears.

Winchester knows he should stop glaring at the man, but he’s gorgeous. Everything about him is truly stunning; from his dark raven, wildly chaotic hair, to slender, yet defined muscles that seem to ripple of their own accord. Dean is mesmerized by each breath from his new roommate. This rapidly pulls him out of his reverie. He has to live with this guy for months. There is no way he can keep drooling over him without it getting awkward. ~~~~

Taking a seat on his bed, Dean clears his throat to get the guy’s attention.

Castiel’s eyes flutter open, and with one flash into the deep blue abyss, Dean Winchester is smacked in the head with one thought. He is utterly fucked; a person could get lost for days in this man’s sapphire gaze.

Shaking his shoulders and head to clear his foggy mind, Dean waves, “So, hey there, Castiel.” God, he sounds like a fourteen-year-old with a crush, “My name is Dean.”

The man on the floor gradually slants his head to the side as his blue irises rake up and down Dean’s body. It’s similar to what Nurse Ruby did earlier, but this time his reply is extremely different. A warmth tingles near his toes, headed northward as it heats up every inch of his flesh. The sensation plasters a goofy grin on Winchester’s face.

Tilting forward, Castiel locks his gaze on Dean’s own emerald eyes, then he smiles, a huge smile that brightens the room like a flare gun in the dark.

Without thinking, Dean whispers into the silent space, “And now I’ve been found.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that comments, concerns and funny notes are highly encouraged.
> 
> XOXO-  
> Angie


	3. Silence to Screams

* * *

 

Dean watches the darkness build from the window of his new room. The dwindling sun snuffs out the last light of dusk as the evening breeze kicks up tufts of snow from the spacious hospital grounds. Staring across the open space to the frozen Mississippi river, Dean reflects on this crazy, life-changing shit-storm he’s fallen into. 

As far as first days go, this has been easier than he would have guessed. The other residents are quite welcoming, something Dean is unaccustomed to.  People tend to not happily invite in the men that are dragging their asses back to court and possible jail time.  Screaming and curses are the usual way Dean meets others, and his sole co-worker is the stoic John Winchester, who barks out orders with no regard to how they might affect Dean.  Compliments and smiles are nonexistent, and he’s had to fight for every kind word his father ever spoke.

“There’s my favorite of all my new patients.”

Dean turns to face the Ruby 1.0, snapping back with, “I’m your only new patient.”

“True. We haven’t had a newbie since Kevin, and that was a year ago.”  The nurse tosses her hand about, abruptly changing topics, “So, your blood work came back clean for STDs and any other communicable diseases.”

“Awesome,” Dean twinges with a tight grin, “when’s the orgy?”

“Please, we are not that kind of establishment. We just have to be careful with the biters, which means everyone on the ward has to be free of anything blood born and such.”

Flinching from the mere thought, he braces for the next query, “Seriously, what is up with that Benny guy?”

“Renfield’s Syndrome. He’s getting better though.  Ed cut his finger the other day, and Benny almost made it a full ten minutes before masturbating to the image.”

Dean grimaces with disgust, “Gross, I did not need that much information.”

“Well you gotta know the dangers, Dean. Call it your safety precautions meeting.”  Ruby pivots to look out the door before continuing, “Now, your roommate is as gentle as they come.  You lucked out on that one.  You could have ended up with Frank.  He’s our licker.”

“If Castiel is harmless, then why is he in here? Just because you don’t talk shouldn’t be a reason.”  Dean’s dying for information on the blue-eyed angel, but so far he’s got nada.

She pulls a hair tie out of her scrubs pocket and answers while putting her hair up in a ponytail. “There are exactly two reasons that people end up in a psychiatric care facility.  One, they are a danger to others.”  She taps Dean on the nose because okay, that’s why he’s here.  “Two, they are a danger to themselves.  Most of the men here fall under both categories.  Castiel is only the second.”

Shifting his weight about, Dean lowers his eyes to the linoleum, “What happened to him?”

“Sorry, it’s not my place to share, and since our little Cassie doesn’t speak, nobody really knows for sure. Maybe one of his brothers does, but they might feed you to Benny for asking.”  She smirks like this conversation is highly entertaining.

“That’s another thing I don’t get.” He glances up to make sure no one is listening, “How are they all brothers?”

Ruby 1.0 rolls her eyes and sighs, “When a woman gave birth in their community,” she uses air quotes around community to stress the ridiculous choice of wording, “the infant was taken from her. All the children were raised as a group, never being told who their biological parents were.  So think of it like adopted siblings who might have a family connection, but no way to tell.”  The nurse steps a little closer, lowering her voice, “Not to mention there was a ton of swinging going on, if you catch my drift.”

“Wow,” Dean mutters, trying to take in the absurdity of growing up in that environment.

Castiel shuffles into the room, killing all further discussion on the matter.

“Don’t forget your pre-dinner meds, Castiel,” Ruby tosses over her shoulder as she leaves.

The mute man simply nods, waving her off as he pauses, staring at Dean. Gabriel wasn’t kidding, this guy’s stare could melt a glacier; yet, Dean discovers that he’s drawn to the blaze.  He finds himself desiring the scorches left on his skin.  Reaching out, Castiel’s fingers ghost over Dean’s chest; the hunter is frozen where he stands, the barely-there touch zinging his every nerve.  He has no clue why the dark-haired angel is caressing him, but hell, he’s not going to say stop.  Then, using only his pointer finger, Castiel draws a perfect oval in the center of his torso, exactly where the hole lies in the tree tattoo.

“Cas,” he hisses in shock. There is absolutely zero chance that this man knew about the art.

The other man silently flattens his palm, placing it over Dean’s heart. Green eyes crash into blue as Winchester’s ability to breathe halts.  Castiel’s lip curves into a childlike grin before he yanks back his hand and dashes from the room.

Dean slumps onto his bed, taking a moment to return his lung usage to normal. “What the fuck was that?” he whispers to the empty room; yet, the biggest problem is that he would happily let it happen again, simply to have contact with anything Cas.

“Dinner time, boys!” Ruby the 2nd bellows down the hall.

After several deep breaths, Dean is ready to face everyone. As he enters the commons, he scans the space, but doesn’t find the raven hair he’s searching for, so he heads to his seat.  Due to some dietary issues, the seats are assigned.  He gets the pleasure of partaking in all of his meals with Gabriel, Samandriel, and Gadreel… or is it Ezekiel?  Dean’s not quite sure on that last one.

Now that he thinks about it, Castiel wasn’t at lunch either. He ponders possible answers while smelling the amazing meal before him.  Whoever cooks for the hospital is a gift from the Almighty.  Tonight, they are having old school meatloaf, green beans with bacon, and homemade biscuits.  Dean can’t remember the last time he had a real home cooked meal, cause that’s what it looks like to him.

“How come the food here is, like, sooo awesome. Not hospital garbage?” Dean asks around a mouthful of meatloaf.

Samandriel nods, “The Harvelle family have been cooking for the hospital since it opened eight years ago. Ellen and Jo are fabulous cooks,” he leans in, whispering, “and Jo’s really pretty too.”

“Yeah, our boy Samandriel here,” Gabriel smirks, “is one of the first to volunteer for kitchen duty.”

The younger man blushes while Gabriel and Gadreel chuckle at his expense. These guys certainly do act like real brothers.

“We gotta do chores?” Dean queries, because let’s be real, he really would prefer laziness.

“Yep,” Gadreel replies, “You won’t be allowed to do anything off the floor for the first month, which means you get bathroom duty with Castiel.”

Taking several more gulps of green beans before he speaks up again, “Okay, hasn’t Castiel been here for a while? And why doesn’t he eat with the group?”

Gadreel, or is it Ezekiel, goes to answer when Gabriel stops with a halting gesture, the eldest brother’s voice cold and calculating, “I think you need to keep your Castiel observation to yourself. He chooses to eat alone in his room, and prefers to volunteer for jobs that keep him on the hall.  Leave it be, are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Dean chokes out over his bite of biscuit. Then after he sips some ice tea, he turns to the tallest brother on the ward.  “Alright, I can’t remember if your name is Gadreel or Ezekiel?”

Without warning, Dean receives a sharp kick to his shin making him shout in pain.

“My name is Gadreel.” The patient seems perplexed by the name issue.  “There is no Ezekiel.”

That’s when Samandriel’s face catches Dean’s attention as the young man mouths ‘Stop now.’

“I am such a fool, probably just got you mixed up with someone else.” He shoves another huge bite of food in his mouth to halt any further discussion. 

After dinner, Dean sticks around to help Gabriel clean up. One of the orderly’s sits on a sofa reading a magazine while they work.  The dude is in navy blue scrubs, which is supposed to delineate him from the nurses.  The name on his key card says Gordon Walker.

Gabriel pauses after finishing a table to turn towards him, “Gadreel is both Ezekiel and Gadreel.”

“Like a multiple personality thing?”

“Dissociative Identity Disorder.” Gabriel’s usual light demeanor is gone once more.  “Don’t worry, after a while you will figure out who is who, but until then, ask me or Samandriel first.”

All Dean can think about is how hard it must be on Gabriel to keep his shit together. His brother’s are shattered images of what they could be, and there is nothing he can do but try to make their lives a little brighter.  It’s probably why he’s always cracking jokes.  The guy must be exhausted.

“What about Inias and Samandriel? They seem…” he raises his hands, questioning the next word, “normal?”

“Some of us wear our crazy on the outside, some of us are better at hiding it. I’m sure you can understand that, Dean?”

Winchester swivels back to the last table that needs to be wiped down. Yes, he completely understands hiding what the world doesn’t want to accept as normal. 

The two men finish their work in utter silence.

Lights out isn’t until 10pm, so Dean’s got a few hours to kill. He saunters back to the media room, pleasantly surprised by what he finds.  There are two TVs on opposite sides of the enormous open room, with two sofas facing each of them.  On the right is a large flat screen playing ‘Agents of Shield’.  The other one is clearly hooked up to an Xbox as Ed and Kevin duke it out on some racing game.  In the center of the room are three circular tables with two or three chairs around them. 

Looking about, Dean catches smiling blue eyes glaring right back at him. Castiel is sitting on one of the couches watching ‘Agents of Shield’.  Nerves get the best of him as he decides to turn towards the Xbox side.  The second his shoulders turn away, Cas’s mouth falls into a frumpy frown.  Well, that just won’t do.  Taking a cleansing breath, Dean stomps over to the empty seat next to his roommate. 

Two seconds before he reaches his destination, Inias hops into the open seat shouting, “I would love for Daisy to shake me all night long.” He cackles loudly at his joke.

Dean goes motionless, his foot still lifted in the direction of the now full couch. Attempting to squish three men on the bench would be ridiculous.  Before he can even begin to backtrack, Castiel uses all his upper strength to shove his brother onto the floor, the blonde man hitting the linoleum with a yelp.  Then Cas pats the spot with his hand.

Inias whips his head around to look at both Castiel and Dean whining, “Jesus, Cassie, you could try to not be so obvious.”

Cas’s reply is a swift kick to Inias’s ass forcing his brother to pull over a chair. Dean whispers, “Thanks,” quickly taking the seat that Castiel so aggressively captured for him, but again Winchester can’t decide if this is just brotherly posturing, or something more.

He watches the episode trying to follow the intricate plot; however, his mind keeps measuring the distance between him and Cas, secretly wishing the number was nil. The way Castiel’s muscles tighten when something exciting happens on screen, or every few minutes he stops viewing the show to, once again, unashamedly, stare at Dean, forcing Winchester’s cheeks to go crimson from all the attention.

A tap on his shoulder nearly causes Dean to scream. He looks up at blonde Ruby, who is motioning for him to follow her.

She leads him into the hall where two new people are chatting by the window office. The woman is older, maybe early 40’s, wearing matching scrubs to the Rubies.  The gentleman she is speaking with is younger, with a huge smile as he laughs at something the woman has said.  The big difference is the man is in khakis, white dress shirt, blue tie and a lab coat.

“Dean, this is the night staff for the 4th floor, Missouri Mosely and Dr. Jake Talley.”

He shakes both their hands. “Nice to meet you, Nurse Mosely, Doctor Talley.  Wow, you’re pretty young?”

“Yes, well, just out of med school; I’m doing my residency here. I work the night shift and run group therapy on Garth’s days off, or when he’s needed elsewhere.  Next year, I move up in the world.”

The four of them just stand kind of awkwardly. Dean’s not sure if he can head back to the media room, or if they have questions for him, so he waits like the good soldier he has been trained to be.

Missouri tilts forward with a warm expression, “You can go, Dean. I will call lights out at ten.  Any questions?”

“Do we have to go straight to sleep?” Dean hasn’t been to bed before midnight since he was a teenager.  The thought of trying to fall asleep at such an early hour seems cruel.

“No, honey, you just need to be in your room. We lock the doors at 10pm, and do checks every 2 hours unless we deem otherwise.  Breakfast is served at 8am, and your door is unlocked an hour before.”  She shoos him away, obviously done with him.

Dean chooses against returning to the couch with Cas. He just needs some alone time to process the events of the day.  Eventually, after he’s stood in his room for several minutes just taking in the space he will call home for the next 8 months, he grabs his bag to unpack.  Dean doesn’t have much: four pairs of jeans (counting the pair that need to be washed), half a dozen t-shirts of varying types, two Henley’s, two plaid flannels, and just enough underwear and socks to last a week.  He places his toiletries in the mirror cabinet above the sink in their half bath. 

“Shit,” he sighs, knocking his knuckles against the doorframe. Dean sleeps in his underwear or commando, both of which he’s not entirely sure is kosher in his new living environment. 

A second later, Castiel drifts in, rubbing at his eyes. The adorable action gets Dean to smile.  He observes Cas going over to his own closet and pulling out an actual set of powder blue pajamas. 

“Hey, Cas.” He waits until the other man turns to face Dean.  “I’m not a PJ kind of guy.  Will it bother you if I sleep in my boxer-briefs?”

A gorgeous, Cheshire Cat grin grows over Castiel’s face as he slowly shakes his head. Dean actually takes a step back as that special tingle in his gut surfaces.  The other man crosses to the bathroom, his hips rocking in a very deliberate manner that Dean can’t pull his gaze away from.  How in the hell did this become his life?  Literally locked in a dorm with the sexiest man on the fucking planet.

Grasping at the few minutes he will have alone, Winchester strips down to his boxer-briefs, turning off the overhead light and leaping under the covers because hell, those damn linoleum floors are giving him an icy chill. The desk lamp on Cas’s side gives the room a dim ghosting of illumination.  Glimpsing out the single window, he watches as snow floats effortlessly in the dark of night.

The view evokes a memory from a few years back.

Dean and his Dad are sitting in the Impala somewhere in the Midwest, staking out a house. He was freezing his nuts off as the snow piled up around them.  John was ranting about how important it was to go “full throttle” in life; to never stop until you crashed into something, hard.  That being alive meant pushing the limits; stopping to smell the roses was for the weak.  His father wouldn’t shut up about it, as if a person sat still for too long, they would keel over from boredom.

John would hate it here. Sam, with his inner wisdom, was forcing Dean to do the one thing their father hated most; rest, relax, and reflect.

Several minutes later, Castiel emerges from the bathroom. Dean closes his eyes, pretending to sleep.  He knows he’s an idiot and probably not fooling anybody, but he can’t handle those baby blues one more time tonight.  He’s unraveling, and it’s only his fucking first day.

Everything he’s ever believed is being tested, and a small part of him wants to fail. Dean listens as the curtains are tugged shut, the last light clicked off, and as his roommate slides into his own bed for the night.  He swears, in the silence, he can hear the snow fall.

Someone is yelling, “Stop! Please, Michael, make them stop!”

Dean starts awake as he hears their doorknob rattle, then a woman in green scrubs enters. It’s too dark to tell, but he’s fairly certain it’s Nurse Mosely.  She lifts Castiel into her arms and rocks him like a mother would her child.

Her voice is gentle, “Shhh, remember Michael is far, far away from here.”

That’s when it dawns on him that the other deep, gravelly voice is Castiel still screaming, “It hurts! Please, I’ll behave!  Please, make it stop!”

“Castiel, you are safe,” Missouri mutters over and over into the whimpering man’s ear.

The scene playing out before him breaks Dean’s heart in two because one thing becomes blatantly apparent, Castiel only speaks in his nightmares.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all!! Thank you for the continuing support. Comments, concerns, and questions always encouraged.
> 
> Angie


	4. Cleveland hides the Scribe of God

* * *

 

Dean’s heart races, as he drags his sweaty palms over his jeans.  He doesn’t want to be here; anywhere on the planet would be better than this – Group Therapy. 

The morning schedule is pretty simple, but terrifying for the new patient. Dean’s never had structure in his life.  Jesus, he’s barely ever had a real home, much less a daily regimen.  Doors are unlocked at 7:00am, breakfast is at 8:00am, and then group starts at 9:30am.  There is no stopping the forward momentum of time; he will have to speak in front of the group soon.  A trembling builds in his arms and hands just from the thought. 

Dean’s sitting next to Cas on one of the couches in the media room. All the chairs and a few sofas are rearranged into a circle, Garth lounges in a chair, clapping his hands, trying to get everyone focused.

“Since we have a new patient on the floor, I thought we could all introduce ourselves to him,” Garth announces.

Relief floods over Dean’s weary nerves; he doesn’t have to stand up first. Maybe if this takes a while, he can avoid talking at all this morning.

A short, grumpy man with dark hair and creepy eyes climbs onto his chair, standing tall. “I am Metatron, scribe of God.  Nice to meet you, lowly human, Dean Winchester.”

‘Well, this guy must be one of the Heavenly Host brothers,’ Dean thinks.

Suddenly, Inias pipes up, “Shut up, Marv! You’re from Cleveland, Ohio and we are all humans, dumb ass.”

“Gentlemen, lets show Dean how we use positive sentences and terms when speaking to one another,” the counselor corrects the two men.

“Fine.” Inias clears his throat, “Marv, please close your mouth.  You resided in Cleveland, Ohio until your commitment hearing, and everyone on this floor shares the human genome, You rear of a donkey.” 

Marv drops back into his seat hissing, “Fuck off.”

The ever changing tall brother leans forward, choosing to go next. “Hi, Dean.  My name is Ezekiel.  The Heavenly Hosts brotherhood welcomes you into the fold.  I’m sure Michael made an excellent choice.”

Not truly comprehending what the hell just happened, Dean gives a thumbs up with a tight grin.

“Ah, Ezekiel, it is lovely for you to join us today,” Garth replies.

Nobody else seems to think this is odd as hell, and they quickly move on to the next guy: a grumpy looking old dude with thick, black glasses, and graying hair, who could double for Einstein on a bad day. “The name is Frank Devereaux.  How do you feel about saliva exchange?”

“I’m against it in most situations,” Dean answers tentatively.

Frank scratches his chin, taking in the information, “So is that a yes or no for licking?”

“NOOO!” He emphasizes this by leaning over to face the man, “A big whopping no on licking, man.”

“Alright, Frank,” Garth adds, “he has now clearly not giving consent and you have to respect that.”

The older gentleman starts muttering incoherently into his hand, so Garth waves for the next person to go.

“Old Dean-o and I are great pals, and, of course, you have met your roommate Castiel.” Gabe, who is sitting on the other side of Cas, pats his younger brother’s knee.

“We have talked about this Gabriel,” the counselor interjects, “Castiel needs to introduce himself.”

Everyone immediately turns and glares at his roommate, and it makes Dean’s stomach churn. He observes in horror as Castiel pulls his feet up, attempting to make himself smaller.  A tiny whine gradually grows in volume from Cas’s chest.  The sound of that gravelly, deep voice screaming in pain fills Dean’s ears, and he can’t take another second of discomfort.

“Why don’t I go?” Dean exclaims, successfully moving all eyes onto him.  “I’d like to say a few words, if that’s ok?”

“I never force the newest edition to speak for a few sessions, but if you’re up to it, Dean, go ahead.”

He can actually feel the knots in Cas’s shoulders release, and that special, warm tingle in his tummy is back. “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester, virgin to the looney bin, so go easy on me.”

Several people chuckle at the comment, so Dean smirks with pride.

A big guy stands up next, turning to speak directly to him. “Hey, Dean, I’m Benny.  Why are you here?” the biter queries in a thick New Orleans accent.  He probably doesn’t have to ask for consent; marking other human flesh is always a no go.

“Well, I really don’t recall the actual event,” Dean lifts a shoulder in an honest shrug, “a lot of alcohol and pills were involved, but I’ve been told I nearly killed a man.”

The room falls eerily silent. Obviously the guys were not expecting that answer.

“Why isn’t he on the 6th floor?” Ed inquires to Garth. 

The counselor smiles, “The floor assignments are up to the staff, Ed. It was determined that Dean is only dangerous in certain situations that can be controlled in a hospital environment.”

Dean turns to Gabe, using his quiet voice, “What’s with the 6th floor?”

“Criminally insane ward. You think we are locked up?  We got nothing on the cells up on 6th.”

“Dude, I’m not hulk level violent, I just lose my shit sometimes when I drink,” Dean assures the group.

Garth stands to calm the circle, “We are getting off task. We have a few more introductions.”

Dean tunes out the rest of the session, his thoughts drifting back to the real question at hand. Is he a dangerous criminal?

*****

After group, Dean wanders back to his room, throwing open the grey curtains to get a glimpse of the weather. Big surprise, it’s snowing again.  He’s not really in the mood to do any more bonding with his hall mates.

He hears footsteps behind him and swivels to face the person, hoping to find bright blue eyes, but instead he finds Gabe.

“Hey, you up for a field trip?” Gabriel asks.  “The hall can get a little stuffy.”

“Where?” He’s pretty sure that their outdoor time was in the afternoon.

Ezekiel – maybe - is standing behind his brother practically vibrating with excitement, “Our floor gets workout room from 11 to noon every day. Hurry up!  Gordon’s walking us down in like 30 seconds.”

Glancing down at his bare feet, he frowns, “I don’t have shoes.”

“Yes, you do,” both brothers answer simultaneously.

Castiel appears at the door with his adorable smile. Gabriel winks at his younger brother, “See, even Cassie wants you to join us.”

“Fine, but how do I have shoes?” Dean kind of wants to go because the foot apparel mystery is fascinating.

The four men make it past the two locked doors to enter the commons where a rolling cart with little shoe size cubbies sits in the middle of the room. Upon further inspection, Dean notices that each little square has a sticker with a first name on it.  Low and behold, in the bottom right hand corner is _Dean._ He pulls out a brand new pair of grey and navy New Balance sneakers.

Dean scans the room, noticing everyone tying up their own pair of varying styles and ages. “Who pays for the running shoes?”

“Umm, probably whoever pays your fees?” Gabriel retorts.

Dean lets it go long enough to throw his footwear on before following the group onto the elevator. Gordon is the last one on, and doesn’t close the doors until he’s taken role.  Jesus, the nut house is a lot like high school.  Then he swipes his ID card and pushes the button marked B.  Makes sense to put a little workout area in the basement.

Holy crap, Dean is not ready for the massive gym that appears when the doors slide open. There are three huge rooms, each with different equipment.  The first one holds your standard weights and machines for the heavy body builder, the next room has what looks like a yoga studio with stretching mats, and the final one has a dozen different cardio machines, everything from treadmills to ellipticals. 

Taking it all in, Dean decides a nice run sounds good, so he hops onto the closest machine with a little skip to his step.

Castiel climbs onto the bike right next to him. The guy puts a 100% into his exercise.  Seriously, after ten minutes he is covered in sweat, which creates a real distraction for Dean.  No matter how hard Winchester tries to focus on the little kitten poster telling him to _Hang in There,_ his gaze keeps falling to his roommate. 

Castiel is still in his white scrubs, and now Dean can see there are even more tattoos under the fabric. God, his mind ventures to the wild side with thoughts of how to see the art on his hidden flesh.

Licking his lips, Dean observes a bead of sweat trickling from Castiel’s hairline, rolling down his stunning neck. Never in his total time on this planet has Dean wanted to run his tongue over something so badly.  Suddenly, he has a better understanding of Frank’s oral fixation, which he only finds mildly disturbing.

“Hey there!” shouts a tiny woman with curly dark hair.

Startled by the lady, Dean nearly falls off the treadmill. He gets his pace back quickly, then glares at the new woman, “What the hell?  You could have killed me.”

“Only because your attention was elsewhere.” She tips her head towards Castiel.  Sticking her hand out to Dean, he shakes it reluctantly, “I’m Meg, trainer and physical therapist for you guys.  Please tell me you have an injury that needs to be rubbed out.”  The glint in her whiskey-stained eyes give Dean a shiver.

“Not really, I’m good.”

Meg bounces her head before turning her attention to Castiel. She glances at his timer commenting, “Okay, Clarence, five more minutes, then we will start.”  Her focus falls back to Dean, “We do about 20 minutes of yoga if you want to join us?”

The image of Cas twisting in different positions with his ass prominently displayed is beyond tempting, but then Dean’s trying to avoid being a stalker, so he shakes his head.

“Cool, maybe next time,” the brunette calls over her shoulder as she heads out of the cardio room.

When he finishes his run he saunters towards the elevator, finding Gordon in a chair, once again perusing a magazine. “Hey, can I go up?”

“No,” the orderly responds without looking up from his reading. “We come down as a group and return as a group.”  Gordon flicks his finger down the hall, “Bench.”

“Got it.” There are two long, wooden benches on each side of the hall.  Gabriel is lounging on one with his eyes closed, the other is empty.  Dean goes to sit on the open seat when he notices that it faces the yoga studio.  And yes, Cas is currently bent in a suggestive pose with his lovely back end in the air. 

Nope, sharing with Gabe seems like his only option.

Not wanting to upset Gabe, Dean mimics his choice of closing his eyes and resting. It takes under a minute before the Heavenly brother breaks the calm.  “Are you going to switch rooms?  Kevin sleeps alone in a double.”

“Hadn’t planned on it, why?” The last thing Dean needs is to move away from Cas, but maybe Gabe knows something he doesn’t.  Actually, correction, Gabriel is aware of a lot he isn’t, but how does that affect his roommate. “Do you think I should?”

“No, in fact, I would appreciate you staying put, even with the,” Gabe turns his head so they can see each other better, “nightly surprises.”

“Ah, yeah, Cas’s nightmares.” Dean dips his chin in a show of comprehension.  “If you want to switch with me, that’s cool.” 

That statement is, of course, a bold faced lie.  Every nerve in Dean’s body is screaming ‘nooooo, it would not be cool’ but hey, if Gabe wants to protect his little brother, Dean would get that.

“Can’t, I’ve got my own horrid memories to sort out. Most guys don’t last long in Castiel’s room, but I can tell he likes you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything about it,” he yelps with a little squeak. Damn it, what is up with him?

The older man winks, “Why not? If you both like each other, have at it.”

All Dean can think is, ‘this must be a trick’. There is no way Cas’s brother is giving his blessing, right?  “Pretty sure with our combined problems, it would be a bad idea.”

“Even crazy people deserve a good orgasm.” Gabriel shoves Dean’s shoulder, “Am I detecting that you might be interested?”

Dean Winchester does not blush! He is a grown ass man who brings down wanted criminals in the dark; yet, in that moment, his cheeks think otherwise as they ghost with a crimson hue.  He hastily opts to ignore that comment.  “He’s a good guy.  I don’t mind the noise; kind of balances the silence during the day.”

“I miss talking with him,” Gabe replies in a tired, lonesome tone. He swings his head away from Dean as he continues to speak.  “Castiel was 16 when they stole his voice.  He went on a camping trip for the weekend with Michael and two of our brothers, the ones who now reside on 6th.”  The location of said brothers is not lost on Dean.  “He was the youngest one of the bunch, but he was so excited to have been chosen.  We didn’t get out much, so it was a pretty big deal.”

They both fall quiet for a bit, then Dean encourages, “What happened to him?”

“I wish I knew.” Gabriel’s voice is even softer, almost broken.  “They left on a Friday after lunch, and when they came back on Sunday, Castiel was missing.  I asked Lucifer and Uriel where he was, but got my ass kicked for being nosy.”

“Jesus,” Dean murmurs not only at the story, but the fact that they have a brother named Lucifer, who clearly lives up to his namesake.

A single tear rolls down Gabriel’s cheek as he struggles to inhale. “Two days later, one of our mothers, Hester, brought me along to retrieve Castiel.  He was in a hospital.  I never heard him speak again, except to scream.”

Dean finds himself wiping his own eyes as his stomach drops. Who in the hell was this Michael guy, and why did it take so long for the government to intervene?  Dean desperately wants to push for more information, but Gabe looks completely wrecked at the little bit he did share.  There will be time to figure out the many brotherhood secrets, so he drops it.

Changing topics seems like a fabulous idea, so Dean inquires, “This is a pretty swanky state hospital.”

“Are you a moron?” The other man questions, the jovial mask sliding into place.  “Look around, do you really think this is a state run hospital?”

“Yes, how else would I be here? Dude, I got no insurance and maybe a couple hundred in the bank.”

Gabriel laughs at him, “Man, I can assure you someone is paying your tab.”

“Who pays your tab?” Dean shoots back because there are a lot of them in here.

“Our eldest brother, Zachariah, Michael may have been a sadist, but he was also brilliant at playing the stock market. When new people entered our family, they had to pay a hefty fee.  Then Michael and Zachariah would buy stocks and shit.  Don’t know how it happened, but it left a pretty large trust fund that pays our bills for all this luxury.”  He waves his hand around to emphasize their surroundings.

“We should call MTV to do an episode of cribs,” Dean counters, snickering at his own stupid joke.

The two men laugh for a bit, then return to a comfortable silence. Dean shuts his eyes, sighing.  This place isn’t so bad; three home cooked meals a day, entertainment, exercise, and of course there’s Castiel.  Yeah, Dean could easily spend the next 8 months here.  Although, he does want to ask Sam how much it’s running him, because he’s no free loader.  He plans to pay Sam back.

Soft, delicate fingers drag over his chin. Dean gradually opens his eyes to the beauty that is Castiel.  His roommate tilts his head towards the elevators and Dean pivots to look.  Shit!  When did he fall asleep?  It appears everyone is on the elevator but him and Castiel, so he leaps up to join them.  The entire ride up all he can think about is how awesome it would be to always wake up to that gorgeous face.

****

“Don’t be nervous,” Cole announces as they walk down the first floor corridor. The orderly pulled the short straw and had to be Dean’s escort for his meeting with Dr. Shurley.

Rubbing harshly on his neck, Dean cracks a poor excuse of a grin, “Not a problem. It’s just like chatting with one of the guys, right?”

“Well, that’s one way to look at it,” Cole answers as he knocks on the last door. “I’ll be waiting out here to walk you up when you’re done.”

 “I could make it back on my own, I swear,” Dean bats his eyes innocently.

Cole pushes the door open retorting, “Nah, I like my job. Good luck.”

“Dean,” a disheveled looking guy in his mid-thirties calls out with a smile. “I’m Dr. Shurley.  You and I will be meeting three times a week while you’re here.”

“Awesome,” he sighs, taking a seat on the leather sofa across from Shurley’s desk. “I must not be too high on the psycho scale to pull only three times a week.”

The good doctor chuckles softly as he tugs his rolling chair around to the front of his desk. The space has muted colors and a warm feel to it.  There is a large, floor to ceiling window off to one side.  The curtains are open, giving Dean an amazing view of the back gardens that lead up to the river.  All the flowers, bushes, and trees are dusted with snow, but he can imagine how breathtaking it must be in the spring.

“When can I head outside?” He queries, pointing to the frozen wonderland.

Shurley follows his line of sight, “I think the 4th floor goes out at 4pm.  Cole can walk you out to meet up with them after we are done.”

“So, Doc, how does this work?” Dean’s rather anxious.  He hopes a better picture of what’s ahead will help settle him down.

Shurley flips through a file for a second, then glances at Dean over his spectacles. “Well, for the first few sessions I just want to get to know you.  Maybe answer some questions or chat about whatever’s on your mind.  I want you to lead the sessions for a while, and then when I think it’s time, we will discuss a more detailed, therapeutic plan.”

“Is 29 too old to switch teams?” The Doctor squints, obviously perplexed, so Dean elaborates, “I’ve been having sexual thoughts about a guy.  It’s not the first time for the thoughts, but I kinda want to act on them.  Is that weird?  I’m too old to change, right?”

“Weeeellll, I was not expecting to dive right into to your sexual preferences, but…” the psychiatrist drops the file, giving Dean his whole focus. “I think you’re the only person who can answer that.”

“Oh sorry, are there rules against jumping right in?” Dean flushes with embarrassment, a little startled he was so blunt.

Scratching at his scraggly beard, Shurley shakes his head, “Not at all. Okay, by your statement, it sounds like in the past all your sexual partners have been women, although you’ve been interested in men.  Correct?”

“Absolutely. Until recently, I’d have a few hot and heavy dreams, or catch myself ogling a nicely built dude, but I never had the urge to act on it, but now it’s all I can think about.  It’s freaking me out”

“What has changed?” the doctor inquires, leaning forward, showing a real interest in what Dean has to say. “Was it a person or maybe circumstances?”

Permitting his gaze to peer out the window, he smiles as the snow touches the blue sky, reminding him of white scrubs and cerulean eyes. But then another aspect of his surroundings springs to mind.

“Can it be both at the same time?”

“Dean, of course. In fact, that makes perfect sense, which would you rather explore first…”

He doesn’t allow Shurley to finish because, yeah, talking aloud about Cas is not going to happen today. “Circumstances.”

The Doctor nods, “I’m all ears. What is it about being here that has opened your mind to new experiences?”

“My dad isn’t here for one. We work together and really haven’t spent too much time apart since I started at 16.”

“Your father would not approve of two men in a relationship?”

Dean’s laughter cuts the silence, “Fuck no! Dad paid for my first hooker when I was 17; said I needed to man up and shed that silly virgin crap.”

“Did you want to have sex with this woman, or did you feel obligated because your father commanded it?”

Hastily, Dean jumps to his feet, finding comfort in movement. He never was one for sitting like a lump on a log.  There is something tugging at the edge of his mind, but it’s like his conscious knows he’s not ready to look behind the veil, so like the grass in the garden, it remains hidden.

“Commanded. Wow, you nailed my dad straight out of the gate.”  Dean drags his fingertips over the cold glass.  His skin itches, compelling him to twitch.  Flashing his eyes back, he notes that Shurely hasn’t moved.  The guy is just going to let Dean stumble over this until he finds his own footing.  

“We were just outside Fort Worth, TX… turned in a pretty high bounty, and my dad wanted to celebrate. I thought he was going to take me for my first beer or to see the rodeo.  Instead, we ended up at some sleazy motel.”  The memory is still fresh in his mind because it was the first time his father betrayed his trust, but it definitely wasn’t the last.  “I remember opening the door and jumping because the room wasn’t empty.  I thought for sure the asshole at the front desk had double-booked because there was a naked lady on the bed.  When I turned to tell my dad, he shoved me in, yelling, ‘Don’t come out until your cherry is good an’ popped.’” 

The wind is picking up as Dean hears the whistling through the window. He doesn’t feel the need to go on.  There should be no question that John Winchester commanded it, and his good, obedient son did as he was told.

“Now, Dean,” he startles as the doctor’s voice shocks him back to the present, “Tell me about a time where the sexual encounter was something that you desired and completely initiated on your own. Someone you chose for yourself.”

Dean Winchester remains absolutely motionless. Not even a whisper graces his lips because in all honesty, he doesn’t have one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are lovely and make me smile. - Angie


	5. Hey Jude Miracle

* * *

 

 

Dean wakes with a start, his body trembling from a nightmare that begins to dissipate the second his eyes fly open. The curtains are still drawn tight, but a slender line of pre-dawn light leaks under the fabric. This is a prime example of why he was such a mess. The hangover in the morning easily hid the bad dreams, the repeating flashes of beautiful, blonde hair strewn across weathered green linoleum. He’s too unnerved to go back to sleep, so Dean gets up and takes a piss.

On his way back out of the bathroom, he notices Castiel sitting up perfectly at the end of his bed. Dean’s been here for 4 days now, and his roommate has never gotten up before him. Usually, one of the Rubies has to threaten to take away a privilege to get the blue-eyed man moving.

“You’re up early?” he asks, pulling the curtains open to watch the sunrise. Dean has found he enjoys the silent beauty of the rays of sunlight building over the river and snow drenched gardens.

The fact that Cas doesn’t reply is pretty par for the course. His roommate doesn’t speak, so Dean turns to see his overly expressive face. He’s found that Castiel doesn’t need words to communicate.

However, what he finds makes his skin go cold.

Castiel is still sitting on the bed, but his face is frozen into nothingness. There is no smile, no noiseless laugh, and Dean realizes there is no Castiel. The person before him is an empty shell of a man. Fear drowns out everything as Dean races to the door and bangs as hard as his hand will allow.

A moment later, Jake unlocks the door, storming in, “It’s barely 6am, what’s the problem?”

“Dr. Talley, there is something wrong with Cas! Please, please help him.” Dean’s so worried he can’t hear the growing panic in his own words. He quickly moves to stand next to his frozen friend. “Please, please!” Gulping for air, he finds it difficult to inhale, “What’s wrong?”

The young doctor barely gives Castiel a passing glance, “Dean, it’s okay. Can you put your head down between your legs?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean shouts, his voice shooting up two octaves. “This is not normal!”

Jake grasps Dean’s shoulders and guiding him to bend over, rubbing circles over his back gently. “I know it’s upsetting, but this happens to Castiel. He is not in any real danger. Let’s get you breathing first, then we can focus on him.”

It’s only then that Dean notes his ragged breathes and inability to completely inhale. His mind is whirling with the image of Cas, on a kitchen floor, motionless, with his eyes peering into the veil.

“Shit! Shit!” Dean hisses.

Winchester only listens to the doctor because it’s the fastest way to get Castiel help. The hand circling his back is comforting, so Dean closes his eyes, letting the sensation center his mind. Actually, what really does the trick is knowing that Cas isn’t hurt. Well, not in an emergency ‘something’s horribly wrong’ kind of way like he original thought.

“How we doing?” Dr. Talley asks, leaning down so he can be face to face with Dean.

A chilly bite rests in his hands as his vision goes blurry, “I’ve been better.”

“You hang out here a sec while I check Castiel’s vitals, okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Dean feels like an idiot for overreacting, but as he glances over at his silent friend, the stillness is off putting to say the least, and he can’t help the concern that refuses to leave his mind.

Talley checks Cas over, even waving a small flashlight over his open eyes, but there isn’t the slightest reaction. Jake moves Cas’s arms around like a puppet; the picture stirs another bout of fear in Dean. The doctor pats over Castiel’s hair before pivoting back to Dean. “He’s fine physically, this just occurs.”

The image sends chills down his spine. Dean’s mother moved the same way as he held her hand on the kitchen floor. The identical, vacant gaze throws Dean into a heaving fit as he rushes to the toilet. There’s nothing to toss, but his stomach attempts just in case. Once he swishes some water in his mouth, Dean wobbles back in the room.

“How long will he be like this?” He prays for an answer that will relieve the knot doubling over in his stomach.

“No way to tell, really. We don’t know what triggers the catatonic state, so we are kind of flying blind here, and without a treatment plan, but usually it lasts about a day, maybe two.”

He was hoping for hours, not days. Dean has gotten used to the dorky little guy and his blinding smile. Having it ripped away is horribly painful. “Can I do anything to help him?”

Standing up Dr. Talley nods, “Usually we have one of his brothers hold his hand and talk to him. It seems to help alleviate the tension in his shoulders, possibly shorten the duration of the mental state, but it’s early and nobody else is up. Would you mind…”

“Not a problem.” Dean responds as he hastily crosses to sit next to Castiel’s motionless body. He glimpses up at the doctor with a faint smile.

Jake waves as he heads out the door, leaving it cracked open, “Just give me a yell if there’s any change, ok?”

His hand is hovering over Castiel’s, yet he can’t seem to close that final inch. Dean’s been itching to touch Cas since the moment he saw him, though he would have preferred a more active participant than Mr. Comatose. What finally pushes him to lace his fingers through Cas’s is Dr. Talley’s voice saying this was good for him. Castiel’s skin is warm and supple. For a long while, Dean gawks at their interlinked palms, his thumb massaging circles into the top of Cas’s hand.

“Alright, Jake said I needed to talk while you’re like this, that it’s comforting or some shit. Not sure anyone has found anything coming out of my mouth soothing, but here it goes.” Dean pauses, attempting to draw up some story to tell. In the end he slips into his auto-pilot feature of rambling stupidly.

“My brother, Sam, is coming to visit today. I had to actually give my permission for him to come to the commons. This place is obsessed with consent.” He goes quiet, thinking about facing his brother completely sober.

Unless Dean was chasing down a bail jumper, he was always on something, from booze to whatever he could find on the streets. He’s what many call a high functioning alcoholic, he knew exactly how much to take so the crash afterwards was easy to manage. When he showed up at Sam’s door, he was pretty stoned, and the last time he saw his brother, the crashing headache was a forefront of his mind. What the hell can he even say to make it right?  

The stillness around them is tender as Dean listens to Castiel’s breathing. There is a re-assurance in each inhale, a promise with each exhale that he is not alone.

Shaking his head to dust off his darker thoughts, he remembers to speak out loud. “We used to be really close, Sam and me. After our mom died, it was just the two of us. Dad threw himself into his work, dragging us along. For years we went from motel to motel, school to school as John tried to find a state to settle in, but still have enough work for his caliber of hunting.” A sliver of a smile spreads along his face at the memories. Yeah, moving around was crap, but Dean was good at taking care of his baby brother. “Then when Sam was nine, he started pitching a fit, wanted to stay in one place so he could get a proper education. Dad’s response was to drop us off with our Uncle Bobby and not return for months at a time. The second I was old enough, I quit everything and followed John out into the field, learning the skills to be an excellent bounty hunter. I assumed Sam would choose the same route when it was time.”

Dean squeezes the warm hand in his, “He didn’t.”

“Okay, so don’t laugh… no, scratch that, if this idea leads you to wake up and laugh at me for days, I’ll take it. Now, when I was young and feeling down, my mom would sing The Beatles. I know it’s very dated, but…” he shrugs, squeezing Castiel’s hand again, “hell, if you hate it, feel free to tell me to shut up.”

He hums a little, attempting to warm his vocal cords. God, he hasn’t sang for anyone since Sam was little.

_“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let him into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.”_

A huge smirk blossoms on his face as he turns to Castiel, “Did you see what I did there? Cause I’m singing about dude on dude.” He snickers to himself, “I’m updating a Golden Oldie.”

Then he continues, _“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made to go out and get him. The minute you let him under your skin. Then you begin to make it better.”_

With each verse, Dean’s voice grows bolder and louder until he’s swinging their connected hands and practically shouting the final verse. He sings the song three times with more heart than the last, but each time he finishes Cas remains the same.

“You know, there is a multitude of women across the nation who would kill to have me serenade them.”

“Perhaps you should go find them to save the rest of us from your off-key slaughtering of a classic,” Gabriel quips, scaring the crap out of Dean.

Winchester leaps to his feet, but can’t bring himself to let go of Castiel’s hand. “Sorry.” He blushes, kicking the linoleum with his socked toe. “Dr. Talley said that Cas would appreciate someone chatting to him.”

“Conversation yes, singing without a tune, maybe not so much.” Gabe winks as he pushes in a wheelchair. “It’s after 7:00; thought Cas might enjoy watching some cartoons, unless you would like to regale us with another round.”

“Nah, I’m good. How do we get him in the chair?” Dean stares intently.

Lifting a questioning eyebrow, Gabriel barely acknowledges the hand-holding that still hasn’t broken. “Let me show you and then next time you can do it.”

“Awesome,” He replies.

****

Inias lounges across Castiel’s bed, picking at a thread, “You know, typically when he’s performing his best statue, we don’t take him outside.”

“Nope, not an option. Cas loves the garden,” Dean ignores Inias’s pessimism as he adds another layer to Castiel’s outerwear. As of this moment, Mr. Comatose has three sweaters, two pairs of gloves, and snow boots that may have been stolen from the women’s tower if the pink fur is any indication. Dean is battling to heave the multi-colored, marshmallow man into his trench coat.

Cole’s army command bellows through the hall, “We leave in one minute; be in the commons, or be left behind.”

Finally, he gets the trench coat on, cinching it up tight. Then Dean snatches his own thick, black snow jacket and matching boots. Another set of clothes that just appeared in the closet for Dean.

“It’s kind of cute,” Inias states, putting on his own coat but ignoring Dean’s pleading eyes.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean snaps as he shoves Cas’s wheel chair in the direction of the commons.

Inias trails behind. “Cassie has become your favorite accessory. You haven’t gone anywhere without him today.”

The two men work in tandem to get the chair through the two doors before reaching the group headed for outside time. It has not been lost on Dean that his life resembles an elementary school schedule, complete with recess.

They pause, waiting for Cole to do a headcount and for Ruby 2.0 to bundle up. Dean’s rambling in his mind about possible retorts. Inias isn’t wrong, but damn it, what’s wrong with being nice to his roommate? Finally, he goes with, “Screw you! I took my shower this morning, alone.”

“Only because Ruby the 2nd was giving Castiel a bath,” Inias sighs, like this somehow defends his point.

Yeah, until further notice, that is where Dean draws the line. Cas’s junk will remain a mystery until he chooses to flash the goods at him.

Gabriel bounces over; unsurprisingly his winter wear is also rainbow colored. “What are we discussing, boys?”

“I’m simply pointing out that newbie here has been attached to our dear brother Freeze all day,” Inias jests with a jab to Dean’s shoulder.

Gabriel’s eyes soften as he cards his fingers through Cas’s hair. His tone is affectionate and gentle, “Shut it, Inias. Can’t you see that Cassie’s having the best day ever?”

“Umm, no.” Inias tilts over to be nose to nose with Castiel. “Gotta tell you, Gabby, there has been no change to his delicate, stone features.”

Before the two can get further into their battle of wits, Cole shouts, “Move out!”

Most of the hall is participating, so they have to go in the elevator in two batches. Dean and Cas end up with brunette Ruby. She eyes them curiously, “I don’t mind watching Castiel for a bit if you want a break.”

He shakes his head harshly. “No, I’ve got him.”

“You certainly do,” she whispers.

The outside area is about the size of a football field. On one end is an elaborate garden with a walking path, the other is a small track and open grassy space for games. The girl’s tower has a mirror image backyard past two thick, scary looking barbed wire fences. Dean notices some of the ladies yelling innuendos through the chain link, but he doesn’t give it a second thought.

Immediately, Gadreel and Benny head to the track to toss around a football. Dean pushes Castiel over to the cement trail, leading to the snow covered garden. A little ways in lies a wooden bench that his roommate enjoys resting upon. Dean parks the wheelchair next to it, taking a seat next to Cas.

Cold air sinks into his lungs, but the effect is comforting. Dean loves the smell of fresh snow. He knows from now on he will link the scent to Castiel. Reaching out, he takes Cas’s hand in his, the action becoming second nature.

“You know, I gotta say, you make better company when you smile.” He glances over at Castiel’s face, but there is just the same, monotone expression. “I think tomorrow, if you aren’t up and about, I’m going to have to sing Yellow Submarine to you over and over. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”

Without warning a snowball smacks Dean, square in the chin. He jumps to his feet, scanning the gardens for the culprit. Gabriel and Ed are barely hidden behind two dead rose bushes. How that idiot thinks he’s invisible in a fluffy rainbow jacket may be a reason for his current housing situation.

Winchester doesn’t let on that he sees the dynamic duo, continuing to pass his gaze over them without a single reaction. Nonchalantly, he turns to tug the blanket in tighter around Cas’s legs. Using his roommate as a shield, Dean quickly makes up several snowballs. He can hear them giggling thinking they have the advantage, but they are so very, very wrong. Dean grabs one snowball in each hand as he pivots, nailing them each in the head.

A war erupts as both parties are pummeled with snow. Shouts of redemption and vengeance fill the quiet air as Ed continues to giggle like a fucking school girl; however, the second Cas gets one in the temple, Dean shuts it down fast, “Not cool, guys. You can’t attack the innocent.”

Hastily, Dean wipes off the cold white powder from Castiel’s face, and whispers. “Next time, when you’re all here, we will take them down.”

“Dean!” Twisting away from his friend, Winchester notices Garth jogging towards him. “Dean! Your brother is here.”

“I thought visitors came at 5pm?” He’s certain they haven’t been out here for an hour already.

Garth stops in front of him panting, “Yes, but I can take you up if you want; it’s not a problem. Sam seems excited that you were willing to put him on the visitors list.”

Chewing his lip, Dean pats Cas’s shoulder. He wants to thank Sam for the clothes and work out a payment plan, but leaving his roommate alone doesn’t sit right.

“I’ll watch him”, Gabriel suggests.

“Are you sure?”

Castiel’s brother chuckles at the absurd question. “I’ve been doing it for a while now.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees, bending over and placing a chaste kiss to Castiel’s wet temple. When he straightens up he realizes what he did, but it’s too late. All three bystanders drop their jaws in shock, seconds later there are smiles and winks abound. The supportive atmosphere gives him strength.

“Show's over, boys. Let’s go, Garth.”

Gabriel takes a seat on the bench next to Cas, yelling, “What are you ten? That wasn’t a show, I kiss my Grandma like that. You need to work on your skills, Casanova!”

“Fuck you, Gabe!” Dean retorts blushing a bit.

The other man fans his face, “Oh, Winchester, I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck.”

Dean hustles into the commons with a smile that lights up his entire face. He just kissed Cas, and the sensation is illuminating his entire world. Sam is sitting at one of the tables, nervously bouncing his knees as he watches his older brother approach. Dean strips his coat and takes the opposite chair.

“Nice to see you, Sammy,” Dean stresses, patting his brother’s shoulder.

Sam doesn’t respond, he just sits with his mouth flapping open and closed like a stupid, immobile fish.

“You okay there, buddy?” the older Winchester asks as he glances around the room. Garth is the only other person in here, and he’s pretending not to listen, his nose pushed into one of Gordon’s magazines.

“Umm, yeah, I was just expecting a very different,” he waves his hand at Dean, “you.”

Squinting his eyes in confusion, he scoffs, “I’m sorry, another me?”

“You weren’t happy about the deal. I guess I thought you would be angry at me, or at the very least, not want to see me?”

Glancing around the commons, Dean shrugs off the idea that he would be upset about being here. In fact, he is coming to like his new home. “This place isn’t so bad. Food’s pretty awesome, roommate is cool, and even the staff are tolerable.”

He hears a huff from Garth’s direction and grins his retort.

“Actually,” Dean clears his throat, “I wanted to thank you for picking up my tab.”

His brother’s eyes go a little watery, “You’re welcome, Dean; it’s my pleasure.”

“No, you didn’t have to do that, or buy me clothes and shoes. That was way beyond brotherly duty.”

An honest to God smile shines over Sam’s face, “Jess enjoyed shopping for you. She sent a few more things you might need. They took them from me downstairs to be inspected. I suppose you’ll get them later.”

“Well, maybe next time you visit, Jess can come too, so I can thank her in person.”

“Next time?” Sam repeats softly to himself before adding, “Who are you, and what have you done with the cranky-ass Dean Winchester I spent Christmas with?”

Dean tosses his head back laughing, “This is just me, Sam; sober and less angry, but still the same old Dean.

“This is you without Dad.” Sam declares.

Both men stare at each other because the truth in that one sentence sends shock waves between them. Dean’s not ready to admit it aloud, but maybe after his stint in the nut house, he should find something else to do.

****

Dean’s brushing his teeth, endeavoring to recall all the words to _Yellow Submarine_. He needs the song ready to follow through with his threat if Cas is still miming a rock tomorrow morning.

The evening was uneventful, but Winchester finds himself grinning from ear to ear. After dinner, he spent hours reading the first Harry Potter book to Cas and Marv. That guy is an annoying little shit, but he does love a good story.

Nurse Mosely got Castiel ready for bed while Dean waited in the hall.

Taking a wet washcloth, Dean’s wiping his eyeliner off when a strange sound startles him out of his meandering brain. He halts just outside the bathroom doorway, peering down at his favorite roommate. Castiel is lying completely motionless in his bed, his eyes closed, and the covers exactly how Ms. Missouri left them when she tucked him in.

Dean can’t help giggling at the glorious noise permeating their room. Castiel is humming in his sleep. Winchester crosses over to Cas’s bed, dragging his fingers through soft, raven locks.

“Night, Cas,” he whispers before sliding into his own bed.

Dean drifts off to the best lullaby ever.

_Hey Jude_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and questions are always welcomed.
> 
> Angie


	6. Unsteady by X Ambassadors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes songs will inspire a chapter. I will make it the title when that happens like I did today. Thank you for reading. I love you all.
> 
> XOXO - Angie

* * *

 

Dean wakes to the click of his room door unlocking. His eyes squint open, sleep falling away effortlessly; one difference between life now and pre-Heaven is how easily he wakes. For the first time in his life, Dean is getting a solid 7-8 hours of sleep.  Hidden away from the world inside these institutional walls, there is a sense of safety he is discovering for the first time.

Rolling over, Dean glimpses across the room to find bright blue, lively eyes and a smile that has his heart jumping for joy. The two men just stare at each other, letting their breathing synchronize until Dean can’t stand it any longer, and he needs to see the expression change in those gorgeous eyes.

“Cas!” he yells, clamoring out of bed to kneel next to his roommate. “You’re back.”

The other man simply shrugs, tapping Dean on the nose. Cas rolls his finger with a cock to his brow, clearly requiring more information about the missing time.

Scrubbing his palm over the back of his neck, Dean recounts, “We kind of spent the day together. If we get going fast enough down the hall, your wheelchair does a spectacular wheelie.  I even kicked Gabriel’s ass in a snowball fight.”  His actions after the snow battle force a blush from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.  “I may have also kissed you.  I know, I know, I should have asked first.  Forgive me?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, heat dripping from his gaze, lighting up the happy place in Dean’s gut. Keeping a careful watch on Cas’s reaction, Dean edges up onto the bed, painstakingly close, but not actually touching.  Winchester attentively scrutinizes his fingers as they creep over the empty space between them.  Being this close is simply too overwhelming; any actual contact would send Dean barreling over the edge.  Cas must think otherwise as he snatches Dean’s hand, squeezing just a touch too harsh.

“What do you want from me?” Dean’s voice barely carries between them.

An exasperated look burns from his mute friend as he makes a kissy face with his plush, supple lips.

Dean shakes his head slightly, “I didn’t kiss you on the lips.” He strives to ignore the breathlessness from his own throat.  Stretching his fingers out to Cas’s face, he ghosts them over the man’s temple.  “Here.”

The other man closes the distance until all Dean can see is the deep blue sea of Castiel’s irises, up close and fucking personal. Air is the only thing separating their lips as their breath intermingles. 

Smirking deviously, Cas taps his temple. Dean doesn’t permit himself the chance to overthink the action as he cants forward, pressing his mouth to flesh.  He holds the chaste kiss for several seconds before sighing as he pulls away.

The silence is nice, but after a few beats, becomes unsettling for Dean. He’s not convinced if what is happening is right or wrong, so he quips, “Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.”

What the hell? Did he just quote G.I. Joe?  Wow, way to sweep Cas off his feet.

Dean can practically see the rising sexual tension. Sapphire eyes drop down to his own mouth several times setting off warning bells that Cas is going to kiss him, and it will not be another innocent, silly thing.  Winchester is torn in two with his desires to take whatever Castiel is willing to give, and a small voice in the back of his brain screaming ‘you’re not ready, dumbass’.

Scrambling to move before Cas plants his first dude on dude big boy kiss; Dean tumbles back smacking the chilly linoleum; the strike knocking Dean even further into the harshness of their reality.

“Too fast, Cas,” he pants.

Right then, the door swings open and Ruby 1.0 saunters in with a puzzled expression. Dean can’t think of how to cover his lying spread eagle on the floor in his underwear, so he does a sit-up, calling out, “thirty.”

His traitorous roommate bursts out laughing, catching Ruby’s attention, “Oh good, you’re back with us today, Castiel.”

He nods, waving her off as she fires off one last quizzical look at Dean before exiting the room.

“Fuck my life,” Dean stresses as he gradually rises to his feet, heading to the toilet.

When he returns, Cas points to the large cardboard banker’s box placed on Dean’s desk.

“Sam came by yesterday for a visit. He brought a few things for me.”  Dean pulls on a pair of jeans, while Castiel taps on the box.

In answer to his roommate’s question, Dean shakes his head, “Nah, I haven’t looked in it yet. We got caught up reading _Sorcerer’s Stone_ last night.”

Cas waves his finger betwixt them, cocking an eyebrow.

“Whatever, Mr. Comatose certainly enjoyed it, even if you’re not a Potter fan,” Dean replies, lounging on the edge of his bed. “Never got around to talking about finances.  I guess when Sam comes back I’ll have to make it a priority.”

He grabs his shower gear and make-up kit, then takes Castiel’s hand, “I’m going to get ready for the day. We can chat more after breakfast.”

His roomie smiles and Dean locks the image away in his mind. Winchester is well aware that the bad days will come again, but now he has a lovely memory to recall.  This is his life now, friends with a mute who occasionally checks out.

Dean’s wearing his new charcoal, manly slippers Jess bought him as he takes his seat for breakfast. Gabriel is sipping coffee with his eyes closed, and Gadreel is nodding off too.

“Where is Samandriel this morning? I didn’t think we were allowed to miss meals,” Dean asks, pouring his own cup of joe.

Gabriel responds, his head dipping a bit, “We are not to skip meals unless we are under the weather. Our poor dear Samandriel is having a rough time.  He will be in his room until the grey clouds have lifted.”

“Is he like Cas?” Dean queries, shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“No, clinical depression with suicidal ideation plagues our little brother.” Gabriel’s eyes pop open to glance at Dean.  “When it’s particularly bad, he can’t get out of bed, sleeping seems to help.”

Hoping to bring a little cheer to the table, Dean announces, “Cas is back.”

“That’s great. Castiel hates to miss New Year’s,” Gadreel responds, and Dean knows it’s him because Ezekiel sits ramrod straight, while Gadreel hunches over.

Holy Shit! Dean declares.  Tonight is New Year’s Eve.  Funny how the thought of spending the holiday in here is almost soothing, versus dealing with his dad.  His father’s attempts at the holiday include scantily dressed woman, alcohol, and proving how manly his son is to the world.  Dean is coming to realize that he doesn’t need anyone’s approval, save his own.

“Hey, guys.” Garth claps a few times to get the room’s attention.  “Since tonight is a holiday, there will be some adjustments to the schedule.  First, lights out will be at 12:15am, so those who choose, can watch the ball drop on the big TV.  Also, since a few of you get overexcited celebrating the new year, Nurse Abaddon will be added to the staff tonight.”

A litany of groans fills the commons. Along with Gabriel’s delightful jeer, “The bitch is back, babies.”

“I know a lot of you are not fans of Nurse Abaddon, but we are short-handed because all floors need extra staffing. Also, there will be no group today- “

Cheers and fist pumps break Garth’s speech.

“However, several of you will have sessions with Dr. Shurley this morning so he can leave early. Dean, you’re up first.  Finish eating and head out with Ruby the 2nd.”

Dean speeds up his chewing because he would hate to let any of this bacon go to waste.

Ten minutes later, Dean’s standing in front of the elevators with Ruby 2.0 in tow. There are only two elevators for the entire tower, so he’s become accustomed to the lull.  Eventually the doors swing open; two men stand inside the lift.  Dean immediately knows they are from the 6th floor.

A guy about Gabriel’s age is in handcuffs, wearing an orange jumpsuit. He’s blonde, with pale blue eyes that could tear out your soul.  The other one is in a tan and brown guard uniform, with a sidearm harnessed to his chest.  His name tag says Henriksen. 

“Go, Dean; I’m not waiting for another one,” Ruby whines, pushing Dean forward from where he had frozen still.

The second he’s in the steel box, he reads the name on the back of the orange jumpsuit. LUCIFER.  Jesus Christ, this is Castiel’s brother.  One of the bastards who violated him so horribly, Cas will never speak again.  Dean’s fingers tighten into a fist as the anger seeps from his pores. 

God, he wants a crack at this asshole.

“You must be the new guy on 4,” Lucifer says matter-of-factly. “which means you would be little Cassie’s new roomie.”

Dean doesn’t speak. If he opens his mouth, only vile curses will spew out, and that won’t help anything. 

Lucifer chuckles like he knows he’s getting under Dean’s skin, “I think it’s such a shame that Shurley lets him off campus to get all those tattoos.” A wicked smirk splashes across his lips. “I much preferred the scars.  It took so long to get them just right.”

“What?” Dean calls out as the doors slide open.

Ruby is nudging Dean off the elevator as Lucifer replies, “Too bad he can’t tell you about them. Give him my love, ‘kay?”

Henriksen pushes a button holding the elevator, commanding, “You go ahead, I don’t think these two need any more playtime.”

His tiny little nurse is manhandling Dean down the corridor to Shurley’s office. “Don’t be a pussy, Dean.  He was just trying to get a reaction from you, which, by the way, you totally gave him.”

“Shut up,” he tosses over his shoulder as he walks into the psychiatrist’s office, slamming the door in her face.

“Good Morning, Dean.” Dr. Shurley comes around to the front of his desk.  “You seem a little worked up.”

“Ran into Lucifer in the elevator. God, that dick deserves a serious beat down.”

Shurley completely surprises him by commenting, “I’d pay to see that.” Then the good doctor starts like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.  “Of course we should resolve our differences with words, not violence.”

“Whatever, Doc,” Dean snickers, leaning into the couch. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, I wanted to discuss an event that happened yesterday.”

Dean shoots up in his seat, his back going stiff. A lot of shit went down yesterday, but there are two specifically that he really wants to avoid discussing, most of all that he kissed Cas in front of Garth. 

“Event?” he squeaks, raising his hands innocently.

The psychiatrist pulls out his notebook, settling into his thick rolling chair. Shurley’s hand strokes his chaotic beard, “Dr. Talley mentioned in his briefing notes that you had a very strong reaction to Castiel’s catatonic state.  Can you tell me about it?”

Fuck! And that would be the second thing he doesn’t want to dissect under the doctor’s mental microscope. Dean clears his throat, attempting to calm himself and failing miserably, as his knees shake of their own accord. 

“I woke up, took a piss, and noticed that Castiel wasn’t his usual self. Felt that getting help might be necessary, so I banged on the door until Jake came in and told me everything was kosher, that Cas does his best stone impression on a regular basis.”  He blurts his words out as fast as possible, sticking to the facts without getting messy with any feelings.  He throws a faux grin in too, hoping that will be that.

Squinting with a sharp inhale, Shurely replies, “According to Talley, you were having a panic attack and seemed extremely unsettled at Castiel’s lack of movement.” The psychiatrist tilts forward, “Where did you go?”

“Go?” Dean’s honestly perplexed at the question.  “I was in my room.  I didn’t ‘go’ anywhere.”

“I’ve read the police report of your mother’s death. Sam provided it with your medical history.”

Dean fidgets, digging his fingers into his thighs. They both seem to grasp what he’s avoiding, “If you know, why do I have to say it?”

“Okay, let me start then.” The doctor pauses a moment, but to Dean, it lasts forever.  “You awoke in the early hours of the morning to find someone motionless, yet their eyes were wide open.  I personally see a parallel here.”

His reply is barely a whisper, “Please, I don’t want to talk about this. I’ve never… sober.”

“Unfortunately, I need to assess whether you and Castiel are a good fit as roommates. Perhaps moving you to Kevin’s room would be beneficial?”

“No, no, no. I need to stay with him,” Dean pleads, his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms.  “Don’t take him away.”

The doctor pivots his head a tad like he’s analyzing what Dean just said. “Castiel wouldn’t be going anywhere, you would simply be in the next room.”

“Please, I need to stay with him.” Dean’s heart is ramping up in speed, filling his ears with the heavy pounding.  His whole body joins his bouncing knees; he’s shaking uncontrollably, and sweat dribbles down his forehead.  “I stayed with him and he woke up.”

“He woke up. He woke up,” Dean chants.  His eyes go blurry as sounds become far off and convoluted.  “Don’t take him, he’ll die.  She died because they took her.  They wouldn’t let me stay until she woke up.”

Racing forward and dropping to his knees in front of Shurley, Dean screams. “He woke up because I stayed.  Don’t take him from me!”

From far away, down an imaginary tunnel, Dean can hear the psychiatrist attempting to speak to him. “Dean.  Listen to my voice.  It was just a suggestion to make you more comfortable.  We won’t change anything without your permission.”

The problem is, the 29-year-old bounty hunter is slipping down the rabbit hole. Dean’s losing control, losing his faint grasp on reality.  He pitches forward, grabbing someone’s leg.  It’s warm, there’s a sign of life.  He didn’t die.

“If I stay, she will wake up,” Dean murmurs to the carpet, his voice higher, almost childlike.

Falling, falling, falling.

Sweat pours from his skin, and his chest physically hurts from excursion. Dean battles with his eyelids, willing them to stay open, but once again his body and mind desert him, dropping him in the kitchen with green linoleum.

Dean can hear his father shouting into the old rotary phone. The 6-year-old boy is holding his mother’s hand, the skin is cold now, even after Sammy went and got a blanket.  No matter what they tried, the two children couldn’t warm their mother’s hand.  Dean stares at the crack in the flooring that skims under his mother’s back and leads all the way to the fridge.  His eyes have traced that one long fracture over and over as he waited for his mother to wake up.

The sound of crackers crunching under his father’s feet almost makes Dean giggle. Sam tried his best to bring his older brother food and drinks, but there is only so much a 2-year-old can do.  In the end, the two boys had consumed graham crackers, Fruit Loops, and slices of bread with water from the bathroom.  Dean would not budge from his mother’s side, his disgusting pajama bottoms proving his stubbornness to leave her.

The only words that break through to him are John yelling, “Jesus, Dean, you’re six. You couldn’t be bothered to change your brother’s diaper or use the toilet?” just as the front door bursts open, revealing two men; their white shirts have little red plus signs.

Simultaneously, one pulls Dean away as the other states, “She’s dead.” The paramedic finishes by closing his mother’s eyes, proving to Dean that she died the minute he let go.

Screaming. Shouting. Crying. 

These are the next recollections that follow. Young Dean clawing at his face; if his mother will never see again, then neither should he.

****

Under the cover of darkness, someone is humming. Dean smiles as the soothing tune washes over his emotionally drained body.  He simply takes the beautiful sound with him as he plunges back into oblivion.

“I let go,” Dean slurs into his pillow, a trickle of drool slipping from his mouth as he groggily comes around.

The green floor disappears as his eyes focus on the ceiling above him. He goes to sit up, but discovers his wrists and ankles are strapped to his bed.  Swiveling his head about, Winchester recognizes the surroundings as his room on the ward.  It must be late because the room is bathed in shadows.  The only light comes from a single lamp on Castiel’s desk. 

A tall woman with flaming auburn hair and fire engine red nails wipes a cloth over his cheek. The sting from whatever the hell is on the material burns.

“What the hell, lady?” Dean spits out, yanking back from the painful touch.

She gives him a pitiful excuse for a smile, “If I don’t properly clean that wound you’ll get an infection.”

Dean ignores her logic as he fights the restraints keeping him in place, “Why am I tied up?”

“Well, it seems everyone has decided to act out today. Therefore, we couldn’t put you in the quiet room because Gabriel is already residing there.”

Dropping his head to his pillow, Dean exhales deeply, “I have calmed down, okay. You can untie me.  I won’t hurt anyone, I swear.”

The nurse tosses back her head, laughing coldly, “You swear. That’s a riot.  Also, we are more concerned about you gouging your eyes out at the moment.”  She taps the scratches on his face.

“I want out!” Dean shouts, struggling against the bindings. Thank God these are some high quality cuffs with soft fur on the inside, or he’d be ripping his wrists to shreds.  Understanding that his current behavior is getting him squat, Dean cools his jets, “I would like the BDSM attire removed… please.”

“Here’s the deal, handsome,” she lightly smacks his cheek while speaking, “if you can remain calm for one hour. I can let you go.  Deal?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” The chick’s off her rocker if she thinks he’s not going to behave for one stupid hour.  Dean’s had his meltdown for the day.  “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight; we will be shutting it down soon.”

Damn it, he missed watching the ball drop with Cas. His thoughts are interrupted by shrill screeches of pain coming from down the hall, followed by, “Benny bit me!!”

Dr. Talley’s deep voice bellows, “A little help here!”

“This is why they give us hazard pay on New Year’s.” The nurse turns to leave, but swings back, “I’m Abaddon by the way.  Give me a shout if you need to tinkle.  I’ve got a special container.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” There is no way in hell Dean’s letting that woman touch his cock.

The second Abaddon is out the door, Dean spots white scrub covered legs sliding out from Castiel’s closet, proceeded by the rest of his roommate. Winchester can’t help but laugh at the sight.  Cas has been scrunched up at the bottom of his wardrobe.

“What the hell you doing hiding in the closet?” The double innuendo has him snickering even harder.

Cas sits on the edge of Dean’s bed. He points to his nails and shudders.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of Nurse Abaddon either. Bitch put pure alcohol on my cuts.  It still fucking hurts.”

The blue-eyed man leaps up and vanishes from Dean’s view. A few minutes later he returns with a tube of Neosporin.  Cas lifts it so Dean can read; Antibiotic with pain reliever.

“Oh please, Cas.”

A tender, affectionate smile flows evenly on Castiel’s face as he smears a little of the Neosporin on his pointer finger. Stretching out his hand, Castiel softly strokes Dean’s face, covering the marks.  The sting evaporates at his roommate’s touch, causing Dean to moan.  This man truly is an angel.  When he’s done, Castiel taps the scrapes, tilting his head to the side with a curious look.

“I... I had,” Dean’s voice cracks, more tears falling from his eyes. The salty liquid dribbles through the blood and smeared eyeliner, adding to his horrific mask.  “I had a bad day.”

There is absolutely no judgement from the handsome face above him. His roommate gives a tight nod of acknowledgement; using his thumb to clear away the mess. 

“Hey, did you get to watch the ball drop?” Maybe if he couldn’t watch it, Cas might act it out for him.  The charades could be downright hilarious.

He’s surprised when Castiel shakes his head, pointing to the closet.

“No, don’t tell me you wasted the whole evening hiding in there.”

A huff of irritation, displayed with full-on hands on the hips is Cas’s response. Clearly, his roommate felt hanging out with an unconscious guy was important.

“Why?” Dean asks curiously.

Hastily Cas gets up and roots through his desk, snatching a paper and pen to scribble out a note. His friend resumes his post on Dean’s bedside, holding up the paper to Winchester’s face.  The faint illumination from the lamp makes it difficult to make out the words, but once he does, sobs erupt from his throat.  Strong arms wrap around his torso, holding him in an awkward, but comforting embrace.

Dean’s mind whirls on that one sentence, cutting him to the core.

_I will always stay until you wake._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and questions are my happy place feel free to join me.
> 
> Angie


	7. Trace my Soul

* * *

 

Castiel’s hands command such beauty in the artwork of the tattoo to the strength they encase. Dean should really be paying attention in Group Therapy as Kevin talks about his fears of re-entering the world, but alas, hiss sole focus is on the gorgeous hand resting next to him on the sofa.  The Celtic cross upon the skin, done completely in black and gray hues, dances as Cas strums his fingers against the cushion absent-mindedly. 

It’s been two weeks since the day he met Castiel, and the world seems so much more alive with him in it. Dean gives in to his desires, lacing his fingers through Castiel’s, observing a faint smile tug on the other man’s lips.  This is what they do now, hold hands with the occasional heartfelt hug; nothing more, but Dean is okay with that.  He doesn’t want to rush in, guns blazing.  Dean Winchester enjoys the steady rhythm of innocent touches. 

This hospital has become a floating raft, making its way down the river. There is no reason to paddle because the current will get you there eventually.

Using his thumb, Dean traces the darkest lines, reveling in the supple flesh under the intricate artwork. It’s in the next moment that he feels the raised line of skin concealed by the cross.  His mind goes back to Lucifer’s words in the elevator on New Year’s Eve.  Castiel’s tattoos are covering the scars left behind by a brutal past.

“Dean, would you like to share something?” Garth’s annoying question yanks Dean from his ponderings.

“Huh?” Winchester replies, his eyes a tad dopey.

“We were discussing upcoming events, and I thought there was something you might want to share.”

Dean bounces his head knowingly, “Oh yeah, I’m going to be an uncle.”

There is a round of clapping, but the surprising reaction is Castiel lighting up like a fucking firecracker with an incredible smile. His roommate smacks his shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I wasn’t keeping it a secret or anything. Sam called last night after dinner.  He wanted me to be the first to know.”

Garth calms the guys before inquiring, “So how do you feel?”

Jesus, Dean hates that question with the flaming heat of a thousand suns. Every God damn time something happens, someone has to ask him how that makes him feel.  The expectant faces gawking at him as he scans the room push him to reply.

“Nervous.” Dean’s not sure why he chose that word, it just appeared.

“I can see that,” Benny speaks up. “A child is a big responsibility.”

Marv scoffs, “That’s plain stupid. It’s not like he’s the one raising the kid.  Uncle’s get to do the fun stuff, then hand them over when they’re crying and shit.”

“No, I’m not really nervous about the baby. I helped raise my brother, so I know what to expect.”

The counselor slants forward, “Alright, then help us understand what made you say nervous?”

“Maybe nervous isn’t the right word.” Dean scratches his chin, “I’m not sure how to put it into one word, but maybe envious is better.”

Sitting perfectly straight with his head held high, Ezekiel asserts his opinion, “Sam has a good job, nice home, a lovely wife, and now will have a child. Your life pales in comparison.  I can see how this would make you resentful.”

“Fuck off, Zeke,” Dean retorts as Garth holds up his hand to quiet Ezekiel’s reply.

“Dean, why don’t you give us more detail then,” the counselor encourages.

The weight of Cas’s hand still in his gives him strength. “I don’t regret my life.  Making the choices I did allowed me to give Sam that stellar list of accomplishments.  Dad refused to help him when Sam picked school and college instead of the family business, so I was the one who paid his room and board when his scholarships only covered books and tuition.  I sent money for a car and all the little things that came up.  In a way, his triumphs were mine too.”

“And now?” Garth asks.

“He doesn’t need my help anymore, but he has people to love and care for that need him.” Dean turns away from the group croaking out, “I don’t have anybody.”

Silence sweeps through the room as each man painfully understands his words.

It’s finally Ed who breaks the melancholy. “I’m glad I have Harry, so I will never be alone.”

Marv leans out of his seat, glaring at Ed. “Dean’s talking about the real thing not imaginary dead people.”

“Harry is real! He’s sitting in the middle of the circle, flipping you off.”  Ed points to the empty space and Dean can’t help but glance at the vacant spot.  “If you’re not careful, Marv, Harry will pee on your sheets… again.”

“I knew it!” Marv leaps to his feet, charging towards Ed.

Cole, who has been lounging in the corner playing solitaire, is up and moving almost instantaneously. The ex-military orderly tackles Marv to the floor.  There’s something to be said about the normalcy of this behavior when none of the men react, even as Marv screams and lashes out at the orderly.

“Hush, Marv, or I’m putting you in the quiet room,” Cole hisses.

The patient responds by kicking the man in the nuts. Dean knows for a fact that it must have hurt like hell, but Cole doesn’t flinch, just yanks Marv up and drags him out of the media room.

“I can’t help what Harry does,” Ed implores to the group.

Garth sighs facing Ed. “Now, Ed, we have discussed that when you do something, it is not healthy to blame Harry.  Where is Harry?”

Ed huffs, pointing to the center of the circle.

“No, answer truthfully,” the counselor counters, “where is Harry?”,

“Little Falls Cemetery,” he mutters, but adds, “but that’s just his bones. His soul is here with me, and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

Garth’s shoulders droop a tad, “Close enough.”

After group they all have free time. Typically Dean follows Cas to the gym with the others, but today his roommate snags his hand, shaking his head.  Obviously the man has alternative plans for them.  Dean doesn’t really have an opinion, so he simply shrugs, waving off Gabe’s request to join them.

The hall is eerily quiet with over half the group gone. The TV is on and Ed’s having a long discussion with an empty chair in his room, but for the most part, it feels like Dean and Castiel are alone.  Well, Ruby 2.0 is in the nurse’s station, and Cole’s in the media room watching cartoons with Frank; not truly alone, but there aren’t any nosy brothers straggling about.

“What are we doing, Cas? Wanna play a game?” Dean probes as he glances down the empty hall.

Castiel lifts his right hand curling his finger, beckoning for Dean to trail behind him, which the hunter does happily. His roommate guides Dean into their room, shutting the door.  The sound of the latch sends a plethora of butterflies through Winchester’s stomach. 

“Why does the door –“, the other man hushes him with a single finger to his lips. Castiel uses the same digit to point at Dean’s white t-shirt.

Winchester squints his eyes confused, “What about my shirt?”

Those nimble digits that Dean enjoys holding skim across the bottom of his shirt, tugging gently. His eyes go comically wide as his brain catches up to Castiel’s request.  “You want to take off my shirt?”

Licking his plump lips, Cas nods slowly.

“I’d be shirtless, practically naked,” Dean whispers, his voice trembling.

The ‘you are a dumbass’ glare Cas shoots him would be hilarious if Dean wasn’t completely freaking out.

Swallowing over a dry throat, he murmurs, “Why?”

Ghosting his pointer finger over Dean’s arm, it takes a few seconds for Winchester to catch on to what Cas is doing. The other man traces the lines of the tattoos across Dean’s forearms, pausing at the hem of his t-shirt.  Raising his eyebrow, Castiel jerks the material and Dean doesn’t have any more queries, his voice is as silent as Cas.  He removes the clothing, not paying attention to where he tosses it.

Sapphire irises perk up as Cas’s gaze roams over the exposed flesh. The tree on Dean’s chest appears to be Castiel’s focus as his fingers reach out, outlining the massive art piece.  When he reaches the _Mary Winchester_ leaves, he gives a quizzical glance.

“My mom’s name,” Dean whispers, realizing he’s never spoken her name in the time he’s been here, only referring to her as Mom.

Nodding, Cas resumes his quest to track every line on his torso, starting at the top and gradually working his way down. When he hits the tops of Dean’s jeans, they both begin to breathe heavily.  A feather light touch skims over his abs, halting for only a second over the button to his pants.  Fuck, Dean would give his left testicle for Cas to take the leap for him, unbuckle his denim, and strip him bare.  The blue-eyed angel doesn’t though.  Instead, Castiel drags his touch north to the large, open oval in the center of the tree.  He taps it several times.

“I’m saving that space.” Dean’s tone dropping to a sultry gravel.

His roommate merely stares at him, Cas’s fingers circling the bare skin. Minutes go by and nothing changes.  Dean comprehends that Castiel wants him to elaborate, but he’s not sure he can.  Time appears to stand still, giving Dean a chill over his bared body and soul.

“I only use one tattoo artist, Pamela Barnes. She’s based in LA but travels, texting me different locations to meet her.  She has this belief that if you leave space in your art, love will find you to fill it.”

A magnificent, breathtaking smile spreads across Castiel’s mouth. Dean finds it hard to inhale as his angel slants over, placing a delicate kiss to the unmarked skin.  Then Cas steps back, catching Dean’s gaze and nodding.  Winchester exhales as he returns the head bounce, completely astray in the incredible sensation of his angel’s promise.

Cas saunters over to his desk to snag a pen and paper, jotting down a note. Dean continues to stand stock-still, shirtless, and pretty much breathless to boot.  Like, what the hell is he doing, waiting for permission to move?  A deviant voice calls out from the back of his mind, ‘pretty much’.

Once Castiel deems his letter finished, he strolls back to Dean, handing him the page with a grin. While he reads, his roommate continues to trace the intricate tattoos that make-up the sleeve on his left arm.

_These tattoos have meanings. Each represents a story that describes your soul.  I would be blessed if tonight, after lights out, you share one with me._

The familiar sensation of warmth builds though his body. Cas wants to hear the stories behind his tats.  He’s not wrong.  Every single piece of art Pamela placed on his flesh has a story, and perhaps the collection together truly is his soul.

Dean glances up, taking Castiel’s meandering fingers into his hand, squeezing faintly. “What about you?  If I do this, if I bare my soul to you, will you reciprocate?”

Cas rips his hand from Dean’s as if he were burned, fear permeating from his gaze. Then the sensation of ice water pouring over his flesh pounds him harshly as Castiel shakes his head side to side.

“Lunch time!” One of the Ruby’s shouts from the hall.  The sound shaking them both from the bubble of silence they had created.  Before he can say another word, Cas launches himself from the room, but heads in the direction of the media room.

“Way to fuck it up, Winchester,” Dean criticizes, slipping his shirt back on and heading in the opposite direction.

****

Dean’s lounging against the sofa watching Kevin and Ed argue over whether or not to buy a new hippo. They are playing Zoo Tycoon on the Xbox, and it’s becoming quite heated.  The hospital won’t allow any games that are violent, so it limits the selection; however, Dean has to admit that watching them clean up poop has been vaguely interesting.

He won’t admit that he’s hiding. Cas is on the other side of the media room, watching an Adam Sandler movie with his brothers.  Normally Dean would love to sit next to his roommate and chuckle over the comedian’s antics, but today has been rough.  Ever since Castiel dashed from their room, he’s been actively avoiding Dean at all costs.

Fucking stupid is what he is, trying to push Cas into sharing his own stories. Dean knows for a fact that the tattoos are there to conceal horrid memories of abuse.  Who in the world would want to spill such painful instances to someone like him, a nobody?  Castiel has a support system in place that have cared for him long before Dean arrived, and will continue to do so way after he leaves.  It’s just a wicked reminder that he is still alone.  He wipes a tear, praying no one sees his actions.

His eyes are closed as he endures the argument over the pros and cons of a second female hippo. Suddenly, a chair drags up next to him as a person eases into the seat.  Dean doesn’t allow himself the silliness of hope.  Of course it’s not Castiel.

“What happened?” Gabriel asks, his voice low so only Dean can hear him.

Keeping his eyes shut, Dean gives a half-hearted shrug, the rejection from Castiel still aching in his bones.

“This morning you guys were the perfect image of vomit-inducing cuteness, and now… nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Dean lies. God how pathetic, he can’t even be honest about always screwing himself out of anything good.

Cas’s loving brother yanks Dean by the hair, pulling him closer, “Fix it. Tell him you're sorry, grovel at his feet, promise to give him the best blow job of his life, but fucking fix it, now.  Do you hear me?”

Dean’s brain stutters at the mere thought of giving Castiel a blow job. “Hey, I would love to, but he won’t even let me say one word.  He just splits the minute I get within a foot of him.  It’s been like this all day.”

Completely and totally out of the blue, a fist cracks into Dean’s cheek. A hand seizes his ear lobe, tearing his plug free and taking a chunk of skin with it.  He’s screaming more out of shock from the attack than any actual pain due to his bleeding wound.

Gordon leaps out of nowhere, grappling with Gabriel, the orderly shouting, “What the hell, Gabe? You itching for a night in the quiet room?”

Castiel is at his side within moments, wiping the tears from his cheeks. An air of forgiveness surrounds them.  Dean smiles, attempting to assure Cas that’s it’s no big deal, but his roommate is pulled from his vision.

Both Rubys descend on Dean, yelling out his injuries and dragging him to the nurse’s station. Instead of stopping outside, Ruby the 1st unlocks the glass door while the other one shoves Dean inside.  An ice pack is placed over the blossoming bruise on his cheek as they have him sit down on a metal chair.

“Dean, this is going to need a couple stitches. Talley should be here in, like, 20 minutes for his shift, and he will do a much better job then we will,” the first of the Ruby’s informs him.  “We can ice your ear, which will help, then give you a numbing shot before Jake sews you up.  Ok?”

“Fucking peachy,” he fumes.

Why in the hell did Gabriel just knock the shit out of him? What sort of twisted plan was that trickster trying to start by fucking up his ear?  Dean glances up at Ruby’s brunette hair, deciding if Cas’s was actually darker when movement outside the office startles him.  The transparency of the walls doesn’t allow Dean to hide, so when he looks behind Ruby, he sees Castiel leaning against the clear wall.  Winchester has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.  His roommate has his entire face smooshed against the glass as he glares at Dean with a wistful look.  Gabriel is a genius.  The man is on a whole different level of awesomeness, because as he watches Castiel’s face, the mute man mouths two words, “I’m sorry.”

Maybe next time Dean should pick working things out with Cas, instead. Although quite successful, Gabriel’s methods of encouragement could be hazardous to Dean’s health.  Dr. Talley has to put two stitches in, which will forever ruin his lobe.

Nurse Missouri leads Dean back to his room once he’s been properly cleaned up. It’s a little after 10pm, so the ward is tucked in their beds for the night. 

She pauses, catching his gaze as she unlocks his door, “Gabriel’s an idiot. A wonderful brother, but a downright fucking moron.”

Dean chuckles because of course Missouri saw right through the charade. “Good night.”

After the door clicks behind him, Dean leans against it, sighing. The bathroom light has been left on with the door only slightly ajar, allowing a small ray of illumination into the space.  He scans the line across the linoleum, noticing that’s it practically an arrow pointing towards Castiel’s bed.

His roommate is lying under the covers, but sits up, his hand falling over his heart.

“I know your sorry, Cas. You can’t control Gabe’s bat shit crazy choices.  Don’t worry about it.”  He crosses to the other patient’s bed, carding his fingers through the soft raven hair.  Castiel leans into the touch, a silent plea for more.  Dean, of course, obliges as his mind falls to the first story he will share.

Removing his shirt, Dean sits pointing to the massive oak tree with leaves in fall colors. “Pamela has been helping me add to this tree most of my life.  It represents family; either by blood or choice.  The original idea came from the cemetery in Lawrence, where my mom’s buried.  Next to her plot is a hundred-year-old oak tree.  The branches reach out over her grave, giving her spot shelter from the elements.” 

“Every year me, Sam, and my dad visit on November 2nd, the day she left us.  Its way into fall by then, so the grand oak’s leaves are amazing and that’s an image I associate with her, but also being at peace.”

As he speaks, Castiel once again draws the tattoo with his finger, his blue eyes never lifting from the design.

“I don’t know, what’s happening here, Cas?” Dean asks softly, using his finger to pull the man’s face to his. “Other than under this tree, I have never felt so at home.”  He drops a kiss to the top of Castiel’s forehead, murmuring, “It scares me.”

Castiel tugs him into an affectionate embrace, stroking his back. A pang of nerves settles in Dean’s bones at sharing his soul with the other man.  He wants to whisper forever and believe it, but maybe that’s just not in the cards for them.  There is no doubt in Dean’s mind that he is growing fond of Cas, but should he let that feeling blossom into something much more dangerous than friendship?

He has so many questions, his head spins. Cas pulls back his blankets, patting the mattress.  Dean’s mind may be unsure, but damn it, his body is on board as he slips in next to his roommate, still in his jeans.  The bed is a twin, so not really adequate for two grown men, but as they wrap limbs together, they make it work.

Both their breathing slows as they drift off. Dean’s final coherent thought is that he’s got over 7 months left to figure it out, because one thing’s for sure; he’s already leapt into the fire, and Cas hasn’t let go yet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Love. Comments and questions make my day.
> 
> XOXO-  
> Angie


	8. Without saying a Word

 

“Oh my God, Jo, you have outdone yourself!” Dean exclaims over a bite of the best French toast of his life.

Jo Harvelle brought up an electric skillet cart to make breakfast fresh on the floor. Dean’s on his second helping and has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“Well, you have Samandriel to thank; it was his idea.” The perky blonde winks before moving to Kevin’s table.

“You dog!” Dean quips, possibly spiting a little syrup on the table.

The younger man ducks down, his face beet red. “I just suggested that if she came on the floors, she could do more than just eggs, bacon, and toast for breakfast.”

“Yeah, but she came to our floor first.” Gadreel smiles, ruffling his brother’s hair.  “If she didn’t have a reason to be up here, she would have started on second.”

Dean wildly nods, his mouth too full to speak without losing a morsel of gooey goodness.

Garth stands up, clapping his hands. “Alright, gentlemen, I think we should thank Ms. Harvelle for her amazing breakfast.”

A loud chorus of “Thank you” rings through the commons.

The young woman gives a curtsey, then returns to her task.

“Now for announcements.” Everyone settles down to listen attentively.  “The fence on the river side of the yard is still being re-strung, it should take a little over a month.  Remember, you are not to approach the workers.  A guard from 6th is there to keep you guys in line.  I really don’t want another repeat of yesterday.”

The entire room swivels to glare at Marv, who snidely replies, “What? Have you not seen the Orange is the New Black finale?  It had to be reenacted.  Who knew that a stun gun could hit a target from that distance?”

Garth readily adds, “And because of that, you almost lost the entire floor’s outdoor privileges for a week.”

A slew of paper balls and sporks fly in Marv’s general direction. “Hey, you could poke someone’s eyes out with these!”

“Says the guy who chose to be stunned,” Kevin shouts; an oddly out of place smile on his face. “And who pissed his pants in the middle of the yard.”

“Actually, Marv, you have lost them, for a while,” the counselor sighs.

The annoying little man slumps over his breakfast pouting, “Always with the pee.”

“Guys, just steer clear for me, okay? I have promised the administration that there will not be a repeat performance.”  Garth gives his serious face before moving on, “Gabriel, Samandriel, Inias, and Gadreel, y’all have been given a two hour, off campus pass for this afternoon.  Castiel is included if you want to give him the heads up later.  Please let me know before lunch if you plan to accept.”

Gabriel raises his hand, shouting, “Zachariah and Hester?”

Dean’s head perks up, recognizing the names, but not sure why. God, keeping this family straight is going to require a map.

“Yes, but Hannah said she’d attend if you wanted. Okay, that’s all today, see you each at Group.”  Garth wanders over to Jo, obviously hoping to snag some breakfast too.

Dean feels someone tugging on his flannel sleeve, so he glances down to a face full of Gabriel. He’s eaten so much syrup, his breath is nauseatingly sweet.  “Dude, what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize for the,” he taps Dean’s mangled ear lobe,” I may have gotten a little over zealous in my tactics.”

 “We’re cool but… maybe don’t do it again?” Dean retorts while giving Gabriel a quick salute, then swivels back to his plate and leans into the table, “What’s an off campus pass?”

“Is it really that hard to comprehend Deanna?” Gabriel jeers, but continues when shot with Dean’s best bitch face. “Family members, or those cleared by the hospital, can request to take you off campus for short periods of time, usually one to three hours.  Once a month, Zachariah magically appears to take us out for lunch or shopping.  Makes him feel better about keeping us all locked up.”

“Requests?” Dean can’t imagine turning down an off campus field trip.  “You would turn it down?”

Gadreel pipes up, “Well, we always have the right to say no, just like turning down a request from someone to visit. Gabriel and Inias always go, and sometimes Samandriel, if he’s feeling up to it.”

“You don’t go?” Winchester picks up on the lack of Cas’s name, but he’s not surprised.  Someone who won’t eat with other patients in the commons isn’t going to a restaurant.

“I…” Gadreel pauses, then demolishes the last bite on his plate, “gotta go. See you guys later.”

Once Gadreel is out of hearing distance, Samandriel ducks down to whisper at Dean. “Gadreel and Zachariah don’t get along, like, at all.  Usually about once a year, Gadreel will go, and then they fight about old feuds and the result is Ezekiel for a week.”

“Families are rough,” Dean comments. He and Sam used to have blow-ups every time they were in the same room; however, his brother’s last few visits have been very chill.  Recently, Sam told Dean he was proud of him for taking this seriously.  Dean tries not to dwell on how much that means to him.

Garth plops down loudly in Gadreel’s empty chair with a huge stack of French toast. “Hey, Dean, we need to have a chat.”

“Okay,” Winchester responds reluctantly. These words have never brought good tidings.

 The counselor finishes chewing, then blurts, “Your father wants to visit.”

Dean goes motionless, praying that he misheard the other man. After a beat, he collects himself, “My dad?  Visit me in here?”

“If you’re okay with it, I thought we could discuss it in group. The other guys might have some pros and cons to the idea that could help you.”

“But it’s my decision?”

Garth blanches a bit at the question, “Of course, Dean. The only people who you have to interact with are the staff here.  Just think about it.”

The voice of John Winchester roars in his head, “You will say yes, Dean. You should want to see your father.”

The thought of even choosing anything but yes makes Dean completely lose his appetite. He doesn’t stick around to help clean.  Instead, he walks straight to the media room, sets up the circle of seating for group, then plops down on one of the sofas.  He has no clue what the right answer is, and right now he’s crazy enough to think that the guys might be able to pick it for him.

Leaning his head onto the back cushions, Dean closes his eyes.

He should say yes. He should say yes.  He should say yes… but does he want to?

These past few weeks have changed him, perhaps helped to envision a different him, one he likes more. Inside these walls he has friends, he has people who take care of him, and most of all, he has the taste of free will.

Long, powerful fingers slide over his, calming the anxious drumming. “I don’t know what to do.”

Cracking an eye open, he warms at the sight of Castiel smiling. Dean’s 99.9% sure that Gabe found his roommate and filled him in on the matter at hand.  Cas uses his free hand to cup Winchester’s cheek.

“What would you choose?” Their eyes lock in a gentle, soothing connection.

Dean chuckles when Castiel retrieves a note from the pocket on his shirt. Never doubt his angel’s power to anticipate his every need.  Grinning like a fool, he accepts the piece of paper, reading it.

_Leave your Father’s opinion completely out of the equation. What would make you healthier?_

Damn it, Castiel is totally in his head.

“Healthier? Huh?” Dean counters, watching as Cas just nods with encouragement.  “Are you going out with Zach and the gang this afternoon?”

Castiel lowers his gaze, dropping his hand from Dean’s face. He immediately misses the heat.  Shaking his head, Cas wipes away a tear.

Without any apprehension, Dean takes Castiel into his arms, stroking his back. “It’s okay, Cas.”

The rest of the guys trickle into the room, but no one says a word about the long embrace. Dean has no intention of releasing his friend until Garth claps his hands to start the meeting.

“Today I thought we would start by helping Dean see all the aspects of something he’s struggling with… Dean.”

The two men separate, but their hands are still joined. “So my dad wants to visit, and I know I should say yes—”

“Let me stop ya right there, brotha,” Benny interjects. “There is no ‘should’, because there is no right or wrong answer.  What feels best for you?”

Ugh, again with the stupid ‘feelings’ questions, but then Dean thinks back to the note from Cas. “I don’t know.  It’s the first time in my life that I’ve even considered saying no to my father.”

“Give me two valid reasons for saying yes, and leave the shitty idea of ‘should’ out of it,” Gabriel challenges.

“I want him to see that I’m good here. He doesn’t have to worry about me.”

“Dean,” Garth jumps in, “I still hear you putting his needs before yours.”

“Fine!” Dean, stands shouting, “I want to be able to tell him that I don’t want to be a bounty hunter anymore. I want something different for my life.”

A faint squeeze comes from Cas’s hand.

Half the guys break into applause, along with cheers. Inias quickly adds, “Now, that’s worth meeting him.”

Dean returns to his seat, impishly muttering under his breath, “What happens when I chicken out?”

The group moves on to other topics while Winchester lets the idea of telling his father the truth fester. Really, what good is he as anything but a hunter?  It’s all he knows.

Upon being released from the session, Dean storms off to his room. He isn’t sure when the meeting will take place, but he needs to prepare.  Who is he kidding?  There is nothing to do but kiss his ass goodbye when his dad rips him a new one.

Crumbling onto his bed, Dean rolls into the fetal position, facing the wall. He just needs this to be over; then he’ll be able to breathe again.  Dean ghosts his fingertips over the plaster walls, letting the dry sensation bleed into his skin.  Eventually the mattress dips behind him as a familiar hand rubs his back.

“I’m pathetic,” he stammers in the quiet room.

The person behind him never pauses in their ministrations, but shortly after there is a tug to his shoulder. Grudgingly, he turns, startling when Cas’s face is a mere inch from his own.  The other man taps his own lips and then Winchester’s.

A kiss. Castiel is asking permission to kiss him.  Thousands of questions rain down on Dean’s mind, but lust drowns them all out. 

“Yes,” he croaks out over a whiskey doused throat.

Cas draws Dean up into a sitting position, where both men can easily be face to face. Castiel’s gaze drags over Dean’s lips, searing into the delicate skin.  They are both breathing heavily as their desire builds in the air, making it difficult to hear anything but each other.

“Are you sure you want this?” His angel is the pinnacle of purity, nothing this perfect should mingle with his lowly soul; however, Dean won’t deny Castiel anything.

The scathing look that Cas gives him could kill anyone else, but it births a need deep in Dean that only one person can quench. Licking his lips slowly, Castiel closes the distance between their mouths, then the faintest of touches as his lips skim across Dean’s.  An embarrassing groan escapes his throat as he wills for more.

Reciprocating the caress, Dean places his lips on Castiel’s, letting them linger, not wanting to ever let go. The tender connection sends an electrical current through his nerves. 

Holy Shit!

Gradually, Cas opens his mouth, allowing Dean to trail behind him. Gasps of air pass from one to the other as Dean mingles his fingers into dark, raven hair, lifting their faces apart for just a second.

Dean’s terrified to go on, but the thought of stopping forces his blood to go cold. “Please?” he whines into the other man’s jaw line as he nibbles the edge.

Supple fingers cascade down Dean’s face, sliding back into his hair, encouraging him further into a deeper kiss. Castiel is leading the charge as he opens his mouth, giving Dean his first true taste of his angel.  His tongue savors the delicious flavor.  Canting forward, Castiel guides Dean onto his back, the kiss never breaking even though Dean’s lungs are burning with a need to inhale.  If this is how he dies, smothered in the arms of his angel, then so be it; Dean wouldn’t have it any other way

A low, guttural moan floods the space as Dean lets his legs fall wide, letting Castiel slither in amid his thighs. Dean’s stomping into unfamiliar territory.  This is totally different with a male partner, but oh so fucking good.  His hands wander down to Cas’s ass, kneading into the mounds of soft flesh.  Jesus, Dean’s mind cuts off as he goes completely on impulse, thrusting his hips upward, delighted when he grinds his erection into Castiel’s, sending an explosion of pleasure through his body.

With each pass of his tongue, Dean’s falling deeper for the man above him. He’s never enjoyed the sensation more than in the arms of his angel.  There is no fear, no hate, no loss, and no pain.  There is only Castiel.

His sweet angel is crashing their groins together, the delicious friction leaking tasty vibrations in his gut. Dean knows he’s going to cum embarrassingly fast, but when he opens his eyes, the admiration and trust from Cas gives him the strength to let go.  Castiel will never judge him, his sole goal is simply Dean.  Lacing their fingers together as one, Dean cries out as the two men orgasm in unison, Castiel’s mouth falling open in a silent scream. 

Castiel falls even deeper into Dean’s embrace, Dean wrapping his arms tighter around Cas, stroking him while he continues to pant from the exertion. Their hands never release the tight hold on one another.

After a few minutes, Dean kisses Cas chastely on the chin. “That was awesome.”

His roommate bobs his head enthusiastically, returning the kiss. The glow on Castiel’s cheeks is heavenly.

“Okay, I don’t know about you, but I definitely need an underwear change.”

Castiel pulls off of him, and the lack of weight makes Dean slightly sad. Winchester goes to his closet, pulling out a new pair of drawers, dropping his jeans with no sense of decorum.  He spots Cas grabbing his own clean boxers, then dashing to the bathroom.

The slamming door reminds Dean that this is different. This thing with Cas, whatever it may be, is delicate.

Winchester changes into his workout clothes, waiting for Castiel to come out of the bathroom and join him. Getting more than a little worried, he knocks on the door, “Hey, Cas, I’m sorry if we went too far.  Come out so I know your ok?”

Silence.

“I’m coming in to check on you. If you don’t want that, bang on something before I count to 5.”  Anxiety builds in Dean’s stomach at all the possible things he’s done wrong.  Whatever happens, he’s to blame.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

Dean takes a deep breath, ready to rip the door down if it’s locked. “Five.”

The knob easily turns, giving him access to the tiny space. Castiel is frozen, sitting naked on the floor. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean repeats, checking to make sure he’s not injured. Winchester is desperately trying to not look anywhere inappropriate, but God, that’s impossible.  His subconscious is taking in the heavy scars on Castiel’s inner thighs, the older ones lightening to a pale brown, and fresh ones still pink. 

“I got you, Cas. It’s okay,” Dean mutters, more for himself than Castiel.

The nudity is throwing his mind into a state of panic, but he knows he needs to be here for his friend. Dean sits next to Cas, hoping to reassure him as he tenderly pats Cas’s back, Dean’s hands ghosting over more marks of all sizes and ages as a growing rage flashes deep within.  How could anyone do such horrible things to such a beautiful person?  The next time he runs into Lucifer, things will go differently.

Eventually the catatonic state of his angel throws Dean into a tailspin. He did this, he hurt Cas.

He jumps when he hears Gabe calling for them; Dean shouts back, “In here.”

“What the hell are you two… ?” Gabriel jokes, but his voice fizzles out at the sight of his brother. Instead of going to help Cas, Gabe kneels down, forcing Dean to face him.  “You did not do this, Dean!”

“Yes, I did,” he didn’t even realize he was crying until Gabriel grabs a tissue to wipe his cheeks. “We… we,” Dean hiccups violently, “kissed and then this.  You can’t say there isn’t a connection.  I harmed—“

“No you didn’t, Dean. Look at me.”  It takes a second, but eventually Dean complies, “This was bound to happen.  Cas always gets like this when Zachariah comes around.  That asshole is the trigger for this, not you.  My brother adores you.  I’m fairly sure the kiss was his idea anyways.”

That jogs Dean’s memory. “Yeah, he asked for my permission.”

“See, you were the damsel in distress here, not Castiel.” Gabriel manhandles Dean to stand, shoving him out of the bathroom and closing the door.  “How far have you and he gone?”

“I’m not telling you that.” Dean’s not shy, but Cas is special.

“If you haven’t seen him naked on his terms yet, we need to change the story. He’s extremely self-conscious of,” Gabe swings his arms around, “the marks.”

Oh Jesus, now Dean’s the asshole. “We kissed and above the clothes stuff.”  He really doesn’t need more details than that, and Winchester is blushing just the same.

“Okay, so you were worried when he didn’t come out, and got me. I went in and found him naked.  Agreed?”

A huge caution sign flies in Dean’s head, “I really don’t want to lie… but for now, I see your point.” Then his brain goes for another pass on the panic mobile.  “But this could be it for us, so what am I worried about.  I broke him.”

“Dean-o, take a horse sized chill pill and listen.” Gabriel flicks Dean on the nose as he makes his point. “Castiel likes you.  This is a fact, the stone figure in the can has absolutely nothing to do with you.  I promise.  Sweetheart, he was shattered way before you came along.”

Flopping down on his mattress, Dean quips “How do I know you’re not messing with me? How do you even know for sure?  It’s not like you guys can have long, meaningful discussions over dinner.”

“Fine, don’t believe me, I’ll show you.” Gabriel snatches a large chunk of Dean’s hair, yanking hard as he leads him to his own room across the hall.  While they stumble along, the shorter man yells, “Hey Gadreel, Castiel’s playing statue in the bathroom, clean him up.”

Dean only hears a faint, “Got it,” as Gabe shuts his door.

The first thing he notices is that Gabriel is a fucking slob. Candy wrappers litter the floor, accompanied by dirty clothes and crumpled papers.  His single bed is pushed to the side, and his sheets look like they haven’t been changed in months.  Christ, Dean could never live like this, funny farm or not.

“Have you ever seen Castiel writing in journals?” Gabriel queries as he tosses paper from his filthy desk.

He would sit down, but the antibiotic shot he would need after is unappealing. “Sure, that’s how he does his therapy with Shurley and Garth.”

“Right, well he also has journals for me, Gadreel, Inias, and Samandriel. It's how we communicate with the really important shit.”

Finding the composition notebook in question, Gabriel tears several pages out, handing them over to Dean. “Read these.  I think you need to hear it from Castiel himself.”

“No, no, no. Oh hell no, I’m not reading pages that were intended for your eyes only.  That’s like invasion of privacy.”  He still holds the pages tightly, knowing full well that he’s lying through his teeth.  Gabe’s going to have to pry them from his dead, cold hands.

Gabe lounges onto his bed, groaning from annoyance, “Look, consider those pages cleared by Castiel as a type of ‘in case of emergency’ situation. Dean, he knew this would occur eventually, and this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen.  For you to condemn yourself for crimes that don’t even exist.”

“He’s really okay with this?” Dean’s gaze falling to the white lined paper in his grasp.

“May God strike me down if I’m lying?”

Nodding gently Dean, meanders out of Gabe’s room, searching for somewhere to read in peace. He’s pulled towards his room, the need to check on his angel strong.  Inside their shared space, he finds Cas sitting on his bed, properly dressed and motionless, his eyes lost in the vacant stare.  Gadreel is doing sit ups on the floor.

“If you want to head down to the gym, I’ll watch Cas.”

Gadreel pops up, grinning, “Thanks. I hate to miss a workout.”

Dean waves him off as he takes a seat next to Castiel, slipping his hand into the familiar spot.

“Gabriel gave me some letters to read. He promised you were cool with it; I would be stoked if you jumped up and told me no.”

The other man remains completely still.

“Okay then.” Dean straightens the pages with one hand, clearing his throat before he begins, “Dear Gabriel, today I met my new roommate, Dean Winchester.  Gabriel, I’m in trouble; he is the living embodiment of sex on two feet.”

Throwing his head back, Dean bursts into laughter.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all. Comments and questions are always encouraged. : )


	9. In His Words

* * *

 

Dear Gabriel,

Today I met my new roommate, Dean Winchester. Gabriel, I’m in trouble!  He is the living embodiment of sex on two feet.  Never in my life have I felt arousal so profound that I had to alleviate the pressure in a manual fashion.

Don’t tattle on me, but I may have seen him in the shower room. Garth had to take a call, and I was intrigued with the idea of a new roommate.  I was just going to wave a warm welcome.  Unfortunately, after witnessing Dean in only a towel, my hand was needed elsewhere.

You will always be important to me.

Castiel

\------

Naughty Cassie,

You do not need to make whacking off sound like a science experiment. Please, I’ve seen your roommate; the need to spank the monkey is not a surprise.

Oooooh little brother is breaking the rules. Obviously, this Winchester guy may be just what you need.

Yes, I love you too.

The Strong Man, AKA Gabriel

\------

Dear Gabriel,

I keep dreaming about our childhood. That time after my first punishment from Michael for disobeying his prophecy; I was maybe four years old and you were 12.  You tucked me away in your room, cleaning my wounds and holding me while I cried.  Although that recollection will always hold a place of fear in my heart, it also opened me up to the true meaning of love.  At night we would curl up together as you stroked my hair until I fell asleep.  Even when the nightmares came, you would be there with soft, affectionate touches and kind words to my ears.  You have taken such good care of me.

I want Dean in many ways. Clearly I am attracted to the man, with his gorgeous body and soft eyes.  He looks at me and I know he sees my soul, but I also want someone who will stroke my hair and whisper the nightmares away.  Perhaps I am asking too much.  No one should be shackled to such a broken figment of a man, yet I can’t help hoping.

Dean likes to talk, a lot. I can’t tell if he does it to fill the silence in our room, or if he knows how much I enjoy the sound of his voice.  It’s a very masculine, deep sound, but also gentle, like honey. 

I would be truly blessed to grow old listening to that voice. We could sit for eternity on a porch, me listening while Dean speaks of everything and nothing, his soothing tones rolling over my flesh massaging the trauma from my very bones.

Promise me, Gabriel, to love yourself with the same ferociousness you love me.

Castiel

\------

Castiel the Brave,

Don’t be an ass. Of course Winchester is gone on you.  Did you lose your eyesight as well as your voice? Because the way those green eyes always search you out should be your answer. 

Glad he’s your roommate and not mine. All that gabbing… I’d have suffocated him by now.

Not possible, little brother. I love you more than life itself.

Gabe

\------

Dear Gabriel,

I don’t see how my feelings about Dean make me a donkey. Nonetheless, he hasn’t left yet.  The horrid dreams that persist, leaving me screaming late into the night have not driven him away.  How is this even possible?  In fact, he seems even more resolved to stay.  I find this equally encouraging and suspicious.

Did I mention he sleeps in his underwear? I find this predicament very pleasing.  Night time has always been a curse for me, as it is a sign of the forthcoming rampage in my mind.  Lately, though, I find myself wishing for the evening to pass faster so I can get a glimpse of all that skin.

God, for all his definite opinions on masculinity, Dean blushes like a bride on her wedding night. It’s so endearing, and I hope he never changes, for his face is a work of art as much as the tattoos upon his skin.

Please inform Inias that the next time he tries to snag the seat next to me, away from Dean, I will stab him in the neck. This is not a threat, but an honest foreshadowing of events.

No matter my feelings for Dean my dear Gabriel, you will always have a special place in my heart.

Castiel

\------

Cassie,

Inias is now afraid to sit near you, indefinitely. Do you still have that Polaroid camera Zach got you for Christmas a few years back?  I believe you need to prove that Dean-O is showing you the goods at night.  Maybe just a quick shot of him asleep, or better yet, peeing!!!

Seriously, do I need to shove your mouths together until tongue action happens? The guy follows you around like a little puppy dog.  Maybe you should smack him with a newspaper.  Please do this in the commons so we all can enjoy the bonding moment, pretty please.

I love you too, you big dorking sap.

Gabe the Great

\------

Dear Gabriel,

First, I am not taking inappropriate pictures of Dean. Second, I think you need to speak with Dr. Shurley about this need to see my roommate urinating.  That does not sound healthy.  Thirdly, I am not hitting Dean like a dog.

I am not opposed to the aggressive kissing idea; however, I think it would have a better outcome if we take it upon ourselves to initiate the romance. I will keep your proposal in mind, though.

Dean spoke of being against saliva exchange. I am worried that the idea of kissing me would repel him, when it’s all I ever think about.  His lips call to me Gabriel.  The sensitive skin, so supple and plump; every time he speaks my brain wants to answer with lapping tongues.

All this angst-filled wanting could be for nothing. There is a chance Dean prefers the company of women.  What if he rejects my need to touch him?  I’m not sure I would survive the fallout.

Ever since I woke up from the most current catatonic state I keep thinking about an old Beatles song. Not sure why, but when the words run through my mind, I feel loved.

Also, Dean kissed me on the temple today. I wanted more, but he looked so frightened.  He subsequently fell onto the floor to get away from me, so that is not promising.

On another odd note, it appears that I like the Harry Potter novels.

Always remember that with each hug, I’m professing my love.

Castiel

\------

Dude,

Please have your gay love with Winchester, not me!

On a very serious, not kidding in the least moment, Dean is into you, Castiel. While you were having a blank day, your roommate watched over you.  No one asked him, he simply chose to become your caretaker for the duration.  It was beautiful to watch.

YES! The power of Potter cannot be denied! Now I need to kiss Dean for getting you into the best series in existence, until they make our lives into a book series or TV series, that is.   

Which Beatles song? I’ve always been partial to Yellow Submarine.

Hugs and never kisses, because awkward.

One hell of a sexy Mother Fucker.

(And I had sex with Hester, so that’s a fact.)

\------

Dear Gabriel,

Unfortunately, we are all painfully aware that you slept with one of our mothers. The only reason this is not completely intolerable is that she was ten when you were born, so the likelihood of her birthing you is nonexistent.  However, she could easily be my mother, so that’s very disturbing.

If you, in any way, come on to Dean Winchester, I will have Gadreel hold you down as I shave your entire body.

I appreciate the serious comment in your last note. Those are so few and far between that when they happen, I feel that Zachariah should hire a band to play in the hall.

There is another possibility that has plagued me as of late. What if Dean finds my looks appealing, would enjoy the sexual experience with a man and genuinely wants to be with me, yet changes his mind when he finds out my history?  I know you want me to believe that there is someone in the world capable of accepting all the marks that broke the me I should have been.  I’m terrified that if Dean takes my hand, kisses my lips, loves me, and then runs away, it will destroy me forever.  I will fall into my catatonic state and never return. 

Would it be safer for both of us to simply remain friends? Not to mention, is Dean emotionally ready to handle someone like me?  Is it fair to him?  He’s only here for a few months.  Maybe I should enjoy his company and keep things comfortable between us.

Even in my darkest hour, Gabriel, you have always been the light upon my path, dear brother.

Castiel

\------

To the HUGE STUPID DUMBASS possessing my Brother,

Take a massive step back. YOU ARE A CATCH!  Dean would be lucky to lick your shoes, much less suck your overly-endowed cock. 

We are all broken. This is a psychiatric hospital; they only let the crème of the broken crop in here.  Seriously, I don’t think there are many people out in the real world that make it past their twenties without a little bend in the tuning fork.  Stop making excuses!! 

You will never know unless you try. As God is my witness, I will eat three helpings of beans and sit on your head until you pass out if you don’t take the chance.  This is kismet, Castiel.  You’ve spent the past 30 years letting Michael control your life with fear.  Tell that bastard to stuff it by giving it to the hottie with the tree tattoo.

Dean’s too sweet to make the first move, so baby brother, you need to put on your fightin’ scrubs and kiss that boy, or I’ll tell Benny how delicious Dean’s blood smells.

I love you more than porn.

G-spot

\------

Dear Gabriel,

I believe there were several compliments hidden within the insults of your last letter. Thank you; they warm my heart, and the thought of you after baked beans night is terrifying.  Do not threaten Dean, or I will slice your hand and toss you in with Benny, naked.  We both know that will end messy.

Last night I dreamt of Dean, he slayed the monsters that continue to torment me. It was the first time in forever when my nightly visions have ended on a positive note.  Dean was masterful as he battled Lucifer and Uriel, slitting their throats after ripping them from limb to limb.  I found myself aroused as their blood trickled down his bare skin.

Conceivably, I may be inclined to take it upon myself to kiss Dean with his permission. There is something to be said for throwing caution to the wind and devouring what I truly want.

I feel healthier lately. The desire to cut has been doused to a low hum instead of the pounding drum that never halts.  It’s too soon to say why, although having my attention on Dean’s proportionately shaped buttocks may have its advantages.  We both know that distractions are nice; however, like the sun itself, they will never truly disappear. 

Smile, my beloved brother, for you are loved.

Castiel

\------

Hey Cassienova,

I find your thirst for blood and violence frightening and thrilling. Tell me more about this dream with a naked Dean.  Was there licking, dicking?  I will need a detailed description to truly understand what you are trying to explain.  Maybe even a drawing or two.

We both know that life is short and filled with sorrow and pain; take a second to enjoy it. Fuck your hunter until you can’t see straight.  (Hmm, I don’t think straight is the proper word here.)

Of course you love me. You should also worship me with gifts of candy and porn.

Your favorite lollipop,

Gabe-o-licious

\------

Dear Gabriel,

I was sorry to hear that your New Year’s Eve did not go according to plan. In response to your pain, I am promising double the hugs this week, and two bags of Twizzlers.  I will not buy you porn, ever.  Nor will I participate in a video for your viewing pleasure.

My evening was spent watching over Dean. According to Garth, he had an intense session with Dr. Shurley that left him confused and assaulting his stunning face.  It breaks my heart every time I see the scratches.  Am I a bad person?  Is it horrible that a part of me enjoyed seeing Dean in such a state?  To know that he and I have more in common than I originally thought; that maybe he needs me as much as I need him?

That atrocious woman Nurse Abaddon teased Dean while he was subdued to the bed. I understand that it was a safety precaution and necessary, but her behavior was not appropriate.  Therefore, I remained in the room the entire time he was bound to make sure he was not taken advantage of or harmed. 

Dean allowed me to clean his wounds and hold him in such a vulnerable state. It was a beautiful moment that I will hold dear.

He needs me, Gabriel. I have never felt like this before.

I want more; for him, from him… always.

You watch porn. How can two men have sex, comfortably?

Castiel

\------

My sex starved Cassie,

You grabbed a little BDSM action. I am so proud in this moment.

Way to bury the lead, there, big guy. So you want to ride old green-eyes, or is it ride in?  Never mind, even I don’t need all the details.  Strike that, yes I do.

Included with this entry is an instructional video of sorts. It should help explain the workings of guy on guy, where both individuals are willing participants.  We don’t have access to proper lube in here, but a healthy dose of Vaseline will do the trick.

Trust me. ; )

Castiel, you are the kindest person I know. You are not evil for wanting to share a bond with Dean.  Lest we forget our wonderful accommodations.  Nobody is without sin in here.

You need each other, baby brother of mine. Embrace that and don’t hold back.  We get so few blips of happiness in our family. 

Don’t ever forget that I love you now, I will love you tomorrow, and regardless of what happens with Mr. Sleeps in his Undies, my feelings for you will never change.

Actually, let me be frank for a second, (the one without schizophrenia), I have never seen you smile brighter than when you are laughing at Dean. Life without laughter will always go on, but we both know the importance of battling the bad days for the hope of a solitary good one.  If Dean is the one to bring more sunny days than cloudy, then for fuck's sake, Cassie, take it while you can. 

Do it for yourself, but also for all of us. Be the happily ever after that we all deserve.

Your devoted brother,

Gabriel

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Questions, and Emotional ponderings are always highly encouraged.  
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> XOXO-  
> Angie


	10. Sad Little John

* * *

 

Sighing deeply, Dean doesn’t move from his perch, studying the winter wonderland. The window is cool against Dean’s palm, but the chill from snowy weather is a sensation that he’s beginning to enjoy.  He’s back in Shurley’s office for an emergency session. Dean smiles as he spots Gabriel pushing Cas’s wheelchair to his favorite spot.  Inias is chattering away, bouncing around like a full-grown Tigger.  They both promised to give his roommate a nice time outside while Dean’s locked away processing the arrival of John Winchester.

“This works a lot better when you talk,” Dr. Shurley mentions from his rolling chair in the center of the room.

His mind is still lost on the letters he read only a few hours ago, Dean has hundreds of questions, but Gabriel won’t answer and Cas remains trapped in his body. Dragging his fingertips down the window, Dean ghosts over the vision of Castiel, the reflection of his own face giving the picture an eerie blend of the two men.

“What did you say?” Dean turns back, yet his feet don’t actually move.  “Sorry, I’m a bit preoccupied today.”

The psychiatrist nods, “You are meeting with your father this evening. I would be shocked if you weren’t.”

There is only a slight tremble at the idea of facing his dad later. It’s the strength he finds in Castiel’s words that keep him steady.  Dean swivels back to watching Gabriel and Inias building a snowman, as the stoic Cas sits unmoving. 

The view sparks a memory for Dean; he and his brother were just children, playing in the snow. Sam was four, which made Dean about eight; they were in some slummy motel just north of Chicago.  The two little boys had made a makeshift sled out of cardboard boxes from the dumpster.  It was a blast until they hit a tree.  Sammy skimped by with only bumps and bruises, but Dean broke his finger.  His dad didn’t show up till the following day, and even then John took a nap before heading to the hospital.

“What age is it okay to leave kids to watch themselves?” Dean awkwardly asks. He’s got no frame of reference to how other children were raised.

“Well,” the psychiatrist sits back, taking the time to really ponder the answer, “I know a couple 12-year-olds that would be fine for a few hours. Often it depends on the child.  Why?”

Dean’s eyebrows fly up in shock. “How old until they can be left for days?”

“Days?” Shurley clarifies, then adds to his written notes. “I don’t think any child should be left for days; perhaps an older teenager, but only if someone checks in on them.  Dean, how old were you when your father started leaving you for… days?”

“The first year my dad really tried to find friends and family to watch us, but it became such a hassle he gave up. I would say the first time he left us overnight I was 7.  It wasn’t long until that became 2 to 3 days.”  He finally leaves his spot, striding over to face Shurley.  “But he would call once, sometimes twice a day to check in.”

“Dean,” Dr. Shurley scolds. “That is classified as neglect and is illegal. No 7-year-old child should be left alone, much less with a younger sibling for any lengthy period of time.  The fact he left you overnight with simply a quick phone call is outrageous.  You do understand that what your father did was wrong?”

Deep in the recesses of his mind Dean replies a hushed ‘yes’, but he’s not ready to face that his dad would do anything wrong or hurtful towards his boys. Instead of answering, he shrugs slightly, sitting down on the couch with his knees to his chin.  Dean’s gaze becomes transfixed by the carpet below.

Silence builds in the cavernous space between the two men. The doctor allows the statement to permeate into Dean’s consciousness and spread the truth like wildfire.  John Winchester would not be winning any father of the year awards.

“Garth reports that you have some aspirations for your life that your father would not approve of?”

Chuckling, Dean scratches the scuff on his cheeks, his fingers grazing over the healing wounds on his face. “How noticeable are the scars?”  Finally, he chooses to look up, displaying his face to the other man.

“They are very faint, Dean, and will be completely gone in less than a month. They were not deep, and you took excellent care of cleaning them.  Why?”

Castiel did an excellent job of cleaning the marks.

“I don’t want my dad to notice them.” He digs his fingernails into his jeans, “He would say I was being weak.”

The psychiatrist crosses his arms, glaring, “What do you think?”

“I was having a moment of weakness, but I get so lost when the past takes over. It’s like I’m six years old again, back sitting on that kitchen floor… sometimes… sometimes I wet myself.”  He stands, returning to view of the back garden.  Cas loves it out there, even in the blistering cold.  “I just want to numb the feel of it.”

“Is that why you drank and did drugs in excess?”

He closes his eyes, picturing his roommate smiling, his nose pinking from the chilly weather. There are no smiles today.  “I binged on the stuff for sure, but never more than a night or two.  I could leave it for weeks while my dad and I were working.  It wasn’t an addiction or something that was out of control; it was more of a…”

A stillness sweeps through the room as Dean ponders on the right word. He never partied to the point that he wasn’t clean of the stuff after a day or so; yet, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t need the dulling sensation it gave him when the past haunted him.

It’s finally Shurely who breaks the quiet, stating, “crutch?”

“Maybe.” Dean’s eyes flutter to the couch, but he can’t leave the picture perfect scene.  “Or survival instinct.  I just needed to give myself some breathing room.”

One nice thing about Dr. Shurley, he doesn’t mind a moment of peace and quiet. Dean is thankful for the time to really chew over his thoughts and contemplate what they are discussing.  The behavior is foreign to him, and his dad’s go, go, go attitude.

 “What did your father think about it?” Shurley inquires, tapping his pen to grab Dean’s focus.

“As long as I was raring to go for the next chase, he didn’t care.” He’s hit with the vision of his dad screaming.  Totally pissed that Dean wasn’t ready to go the minute he was.  The memory jolts Dean a bit as he grinds his teeth.  “A few times I didn’t hit his timeline, and there was certainly hell to pay.”

****

Dean’s session with Dr. Shurley went late, so dinner was already being served when he arrived on the floor. There was no time to even say ‘hi’ to Cas; therefore, Dean may have plowed through his meal to make it back to his room faster.

He’s still chewing a sweet potato fry when he spots the door to their room cracked open. Dean can hear Ruby 1.0 talking.

“Okay, down the hatch, handsome. So tell me, Castiel, who’s sexier: Dean or Ryan Reynolds?” 

At the sound of his name, Dean peeks around the door. Cas is sitting, frozen, on his bed, arms at his side and eyes wide open, but vacant.  Ruby has the white scrub shirt yanked up on one side to reveal a rubber tube hanging out of Cas’s stomach.  He’s fairly certain it’s a permanent feeding tube.  Ruby the 1st has a large syringe with a nasty looking concoction that she’s slowly inserting into Castiel’s belly.  It makes sense, as often as he’s catatonic, they would need a way to feed him.  Unfortunately, Dean is also aware that Cas often has a catheter.

There is no response from Cas, so Ruby answers for him, “Yeah, I thought you’d say Dean. He does have a sweet ass.  You gonna hit that?”

Obviously, Ruby also believes in filling the silence with endless chatter, but prefers to describe her enjoyment of his anatomy which, damn it, makes him blush!

The nurse is messing with the tubing making sure it doesn’t kink when she pulls Castiel’s shirt up higher. Dean’s never seen or touched Cas’s upper abs, and now he sees why.  In the bathroom, when Cas was naked on the floor, he was hunched over hiding the damage.  At first Dean can’t figure it out, his mind not catching up with how horrible the image truly is, until he reads the word etched on Cas’s flesh, _Obey._ This isn’t a tattoo; the methods of placing the letters on his friend were far more evil.

Dean can’t help it, he races past Ruby, into their bathroom, slamming the door. He then proceeds to toss the cheeseburger and sweet potato fries into the toilet.  Well, eating dinner was a bust.  After each heave, the picture of Cas’s upper abs plows another wave of nausea through him.  As best as Dean can tell, someone carved the word _Obey_ into Cas’s skin, then somehow set the lines on fire; the word written in melted flesh.

“Jesus,” Dean whispers into the porcelain bowl. No wonder Castiel refuses to even undress in front of him.  It also explains why his roommate only takes baths, alone, with a nurse.  One thought keeps bellowing through his brain, so he tells it to the walls.  “Castiel is one hell of a strong motherfucker.”

A faint tap to the bathroom door startles Dean from his dark meditations. “Yeah?”

“Dean, it’s Ruby the first. Can I come in?”  Concern is laced in each word.

He snickers because even the Rubys add the silly nickname. “Sure.”

The door creeps open as the blonde nurse steps inside, leaving it ajar so she can see Cas on his bed. “Do you want to talk about it?  I promise it stays here, between you, me, and Mona Lisa over there.”

Glancing over, Dean notices that Cas is wearing a weird ass smirk on his face. “It’s just been a long day, and the worst fucking part has yet to come.”

“You can always say no.” She speaks softly as if Dean is a wild animal likely to break for it, or bite.  “Even if he’s sitting in the commons waiting, you have the right to refuse him.  Everyone will support your decision.”

“You don’t tell John Winchester ‘no’,” Dean reveals through a dark tone. Shaking his head, he pretends to perk up, “Nah, it will be fine.  Garth will be there, right?”

Ruby nods, “Yes, and he will have a buzzer in his hands for an emergency.”

“A buzzer?” He’s still learning the jargon around here.

“It’s a little handheld remote that sets off the alarm. If Garth pushes it, then we all come rushing in guns a blazing.”

Dean can’t imagine that actually deterring his father when he’s on the warpath, but hell, this will be like ripping off a band- aid. He just needs to do it quick.

A little after 8pm, Dean is lounging in the media room, making paper airplanes. Kevin opened the art cabinet to make a card for his mom, and Dean snagged several pieces of construction paper.  The two men, plus Castiel, have turned one of the tables into a mecca of everything art.  Dean is rambling on about the different ways to make a proper plane; Kevin occasionally asking a question, even though he is perfectly aware that Dean’s talking to the Castiel mannequin. 

Dean spots Garth approaching the table and he sighs, realizing that his prayers were not answered. His dad showed.

“Your father is waiting in the commons, Dean.” Garth announces.  “What would you like to do?”

Dean seizes Cas’s hand, squeezing tenderly before rising to his feet. Without asking, Gadreel is behind Castiel’s wheelchair, waiting to push him over to the Xbox.  With his goofy Gadreel grin, “We will be waiting for you.”

“Let’s go,” Dean hastens.

The commons is darker than Dean’s used to; the windows reflecting the moonless night, giving Dean a slight shiver. Overhead lights shine just as bright, but the lack of sun is off-putting to Dean.  John sits rigidly at the center table.  Dean takes the seat opposite of his dad.  Garth perches on the closest sofa, not even trying to hide that he’s listening.  Dean spots the buzzer in his hand.  Damn, they take this shit seriously.

John speaks first, his tone curt, and annoyed. “I can’t believe you got yourself into this mess, Dean.”

There are no hugs, no kind words. The man hasn’t seen him in weeks, but there isn’t an ounce of emotion in his voice.

“Sorry that my time in the looney bin is disrupting your schedule, Dad.”

“Don’t be stupid, Dean. Your incarceration is going to affect the bottom line.  I can’t make the same captures working on my own.”

That’s when Dean sees it. His dad has a note just under his hand.  Probably something that he doesn’t want to say in front of Garth.  Curiosity gets the best of him as Dean slides his hand out, making a perfect pass from his dad.  To anyone else, including Garth, it simply appeared that Dean was stretching out his hand. 

Dean’s hopes soar. Maybe his dad wants to tell him that he’s missed and loved, but saying it out loud is just too much.  Really, Dean shouldn’t be so dumb as he opens the note he reads;

_January 23 rd, 4:10pm be ready_

Shit! His father is planning a jail break.  What the fuck?  Dean doesn’t have the balls to squeal on his dad, but he does give him a swift answer.  “No, Dad.  My sentence has me here until Aug. 27th.  I don’t plan on asking for an early release.”  Scanning Garth’s face, the guy obviously thinks that Dean’s clarifying his need to stay; however, when he looks back, his dad’s face is burning with rage.  His son telling him ‘no’ is not a suitable response.

“That’s eight months, Dean!” John’s voice rises, “If you don’t work for that long, how are you planning to pay for this place? It’s not a state institution, Dean; your bill is going to be astronomical.”

Dean’s gaze focuses on his fingers as he croaks, “I won’t have a bill.”

“How in the hell would you not have…” His dad’s mind finally figuring out the one person who would help. “Are you a fucking idiot?”

“What? No.”  Dean scrunches his nose confused.

John smacks his fist on the table, “You’re going to let Sam hold that over your head?”

“Dad, we’ve spoken, and he sees it as repayment for my help in college. So we’ll be square.”  Dean hopes his father can see that Sam’s being kind.

John leans over the table, pointing a finger in Dean’s face, “No, you little shit. That’s what he says now, but you wait, he’ll use it as leverage one day.  Probably when he doesn’t like a bail jumper we are working.”

“About that,” his father pauses and glares hard at Dean. Somewhere deep in his bones, Dean summons the courage to say it.  “I don’t want to be a bounty hunter after I’m released.”

A soft “Good job” comes from Garth’s side of the room. Dean so rarely gets compliments that he nearly preens from the two simple words.

Then John sucks all the air in the room before he lets loose one hell of a tirade. “What are you gonna do instead?  Dean, you don’t have a single God damn skill other than skip tracing.  How is a high school drop-out going to support himself?  Work at fucking Dairy Queen!”

All the pride in his chest deflates in seconds. Dean hadn’t thought that far along yet, but his dad does have a point.  Who would hire someone with no skills and no diploma?  His dreams are crushing right before his eyes.

“He can get his GED while he’s under our care,” Garth adds from the couch. “We have a tutor on staff named Charlie Bradbury who can meet with him tomorrow to assess his needs and set up a study schedule.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks tentatively. It’s too soon to let hope back in the equation.

“Yes, Dean. We are here to help you.”  The smile on Garth’s face is infectious.

John’s on his feet screaming, and Dean’s not sure what the hell is happening. “Even if you get a GED, that doesn’t mean anyone is going to hire you.  Dean, you are nothing without me.  We are a team, and you’re just going to bail the second things get tough?  I taught you better than that.”

Dean rises to face his father toe to toe. “If I’m such a schmuck, why do you want me back?”

“You listen closely, Son,” John’s volume is hushed and sinister, “Sam has his own life that doesn’t include you. I’m all you have left of family.”

Desperation shines from his father’s eyes, bleeding down like teardrops, enveloping his total body. Dean watches as raw fear shrouds the older man.

“That’s not true,” he whispers, more to console himself than John. Dean’s never been on his own; Sam, Bobby, and his dad have always kept him together, given him a focus.

 John grabs Dean’s shirt, jerking him forward so their faces are dangerously close.  His dad’s voice is cold, calculating, and dripping with anger.  “If you do this, if you cut me out, you will be all alone, Dean.  Is that what you want to be?  All alone with no one?”  John pauses, and Dean knows he’s gearing up for the final blow.  The metaphorical knife that will sever Dean from the future he frantically grasps for in the dark.  “There will be no one to hold your hand when you’re dead on the floor.”

Without warning, alarms are going off, bright lights flashing that blind Dean, so he closes his eyes. Strong arms are pulling him away from his father’s hold, and Dean leans into the rescue.  He knows someone is yelling words into his ear, but Dean’s brain has chosen to simply turn off.  The pain is too great, and Dean’s survival instincts are kicking in, so he goes slack.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to observe silently as Cole and Gordon physically remove John from the commons. His dad screaming over and over, “All alone, Dean!”

Gradually, Garth gets Dean moving as they work their way to his room. Funny that now this drab space has more warmth in it than anywhere Dean has lived since he was six.  He would laugh, but that requires energy, and Dean’s got nothing left.  All the positive thoughts that he has been building over the past few weeks shattered from one conversation with his dad.  He truly is weak.

Dean climbs into his bed, mumbling, “I just need to rest.”

Garth must agree because he leaves Dean alone, but the door remains wide open. Every ten minutes, like clockwork, one of the staff steps in to check on him.  He’s not a moron, suicide watch.  Dean’s face is towards the wall, but his eyes are wide open, staring into the empty white space of nothingness.  At some point, Gabriel and Gadreel bring Cas into the room, depositing the statue of a man on the bed.  They talk in hushed whispers, but Dean hears them anyways.

Gabriel speaks first, “Castiel you need to spend a little time with the roomie. He’s having a rough day.”

“Maybe he’ll wake up?” Gadreel asks, his voice straining as he lifts Cas onto the mattress.

“Just leave him sitting. Missouri will be here to put him to bed soon enough,” Gabriel replies as the two men exit, shutting the door.

Dean needs him. The desire for a simple touch is injecting strength into Dean’s resolve, forcing him to move.  He lowers himself to the floor, because standing is not going to happen.  Not caring about how pathetic he looks, Dean crawls across the space to Cas’s feet.  Merely traversing their small room has winded Dean, so he crashes to the chilly linoleum.  He curls around Castiel’s ankles, tucking in tight as he raises one hand to grasp at his roommate’s calf. 

The room is bathed in darkness, but Dean doesn’t need his eyes. The faint sound of Castiel breathing soothes his weary soul. It helps him to delineate this moment from his nightmares.

“You are not alone. You are not alone.  You are not alone.” 

Dean chants to the shoes in front of his face, not sure which one of them he’s talking to.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, Comments, and lots of love are always welcomed.  
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> XOXO-  
> Angie


	11. Swallows Me Whole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suggest eating chocolate while reading this chapter. 
> 
> Trigger warnings in end notes.

* * *

 

 

Gentle hands are shaking Dean awake. His eyes squint open as he scans his surroundings; he is still lying in the fetal position at Castiel’s feet.  Dried tears litter his face creating a black eyeliner river over his cheeks and his shirt is slightly damp from his runny nose.  Even with all this, he honestly doesn’t want to move.  Castiel’s rigid form has become a beacon of comfort for him, so he shuts his eyes, curling in to fall back asleep.

“Dean, honey, you need to wake up.” Nurse Mosely’s tone is delicate as she taps his shoulder once more.  “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

Grumbling into Cas’s ankle, “’M fine. Tis comfy.”

“No, it’s not, you big moron.” This time her grasp is tighter and her voice rises.  “I will not have my patients spending the night on the damn linoleum.”

Giving up the ghost, Dean sits up, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. At that moment, he feels the moisture on his pants just as Missouri sees it.

“Oh, Dean,” her words fall back to Mama Bear status. “We can just clean you up real quick; no big deal.  Then I can put Castiel to bed.”

Dean’s drowning in embarrassment, so he doesn’t say a word, just follows her lead. The nurse guides him out into the hall, which has the lights dimmed for the night shift.  The brightness of the overheads, even at 50% makes him start for a second.

Missouri must think he’s bucking at the situation as she soothes, “Don’t you worry, Sweetheart, it happens more than you would think.”

The motherly smile she gives him almost helps to make him feel better, almost. There is something low and dark tugging at his soul, but it hasn’t engulfed him yet.  She’s heading toward the shower room where she will probably set him up and leave.  The thought of being alone, even for a five-minute shower, has Dean stepping away from the door.

“Can I have a bath?” he requests with a shy, tentative tone. Dean’s very aware that taking a bath requires a presence of a nurse.  Perfect.

“Yes,” is the nurse’s only response as she turns to unlock the bath room. “I have to stay with you?”

He nods silently, walking into the room on wobbly feet. The comfort of her presence is keeping Dean mostly together.  This is the first time Dean’s been in here, and he takes stock of the space.  Three tubs sit along the left side of the room.  Several stools of differing sizes and shapes are spread throughout.  On the right is a long mirror with three sinks, similar to the set up in the shower room.  A long shelf runs the back wall, stacked with varying types of towels.  Unlike in the shower room where there are stalls for privacy, this is a wide open space.  No hiding in here.

Missouri wanders over to the center tub, turning on the water and setting the temp. “What do you like?”

“Just below lobster cooking level.” Dean lifts one side of his mouth in an ill-fated smile.  If he had the vigor, he would chuckle.  He removes his clothing, folding the fabric gently, avoiding the wet spot.  He uses one of the stools to hold his things as he steps into the old-fashioned, claw footed tub. 

Dean leans back, letting the toasty water warm up his chilled bones. He sighs, realizing he’s missing his shower tote.  “I don’t have my stuff?”

“That’s okay, you can borrow Castiel’s. I know he won’t mind,” she winks, grabbing a white plastic bucket with his roommate’s name written across the side.

The nurse hands him a bar of soap that looks handmade and smells faintly of honey. Dean inhales the scent, letting the odor calm his rattled nerves.  He has no desire to move, he’s content to just sit like this till the water cools, but he knows he’s got to wash the goods.  He reluctantly scrubs his skin, cleansing away the grime so he can start anew. 

A childhood memory flashes through his mind as he bathes. His mother sits next to him, singing as she shampoo’s his hair.  The vision stings a little as he wishes with all his heart to be her little boy again.  Suddenly, kind fingers are wiping away his tears.  She has a washcloth to sweep away his make-up mask.

In a whisper, Missouri comforts him. “He can’t hurt you, never again. What can I do to help?”

“Wash…” he feels like an idiot asking, but God, when was the last time someone touched him with innocent affection? “Will you wash my hair?”

“Always; you just have to ask.” She turns to Castiel’s basket, rooting around till she’s found a bottle of baby shampoo and a cup for rinsing.

Closing his eyes upon her command, Dean enjoys the water splashing over his head and dribbling off his chin. The aroma of the baby shampoo yanks at the remaining wisps of his memory.  Why is it they all smell the same?  Dean’s breathing goes steady for the first time today as strong, yet tender fingertips scratch over his scalp.

No one has done this for Dean in decades. The sensation is wonderful; once again it helps to soothe him, but the darkness brewing just under his skin remains.  A sadness is coming, and Dean will be powerless against its tirade in his mind.  Before, when he felt himself falling into the shadows of sorrow; he would throw himself into a bail jumper’s capture, or douse himself with alcohol and other nefarious substances.  He doesn’t have those options here.  Dean will have to face the darkness head on.

As Missouri rinses away the suds, the slow way she cards her fingers through his short hairs helps to stave off the onslaught of emotions. The reprieve, if only for a moment, is exquisite.

“Castiel uses a touch of conditioner. Would you like some?”

“Bastard. That’s how his hair is so fucking soft.”  Dean’s wading in his own sorrow, valiantly attempting to keep his head above the pain.

The nurse’s hands massage the conditioner into his hair. The faint scent of honey once more slipping into his nostrils.  Damn Cas and his obsession with everything bees.  Dean finds his body leaning into the touch, starved for the affection.  Finally, when the water washes away the scent, Dean’s hit with a wave of exhaustion.  The emotional roller coaster of the day knocking him metaphorically on his ass.  Keeping quiet, Missouri helps him stand, then takes it upon herself to dry his hair and skin.  She is methodical in her approach, each touch lulling the harsh ache in his bones.  The towel is fluffier than the ones in the shower room.  Definitely a reason to return.

“First foot,” she asks, holding Dean’s underwear in front of him. He follows the command, then adds the second foot so Missouri can slide his clean boxer-briefs up and into place.  “There ya go, handsome.”

Dean’s only reply is to sway a little on his feet.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

****

Somewhere off in the distance, Dean hears the click of the door unlocking, signifying morning. His father’s parting words ring in his ears.  “All alone, Dean.”

“All alone, Dean.”

“Dead on the floor with no one to hold your hand.”

Dean can’t summon the energy to get up today, so he tucks deeper under the covers. The dark clouds rain over his head, making it hard to breathe.  Samandriel spends days at a time in bed.  Dean believes this is an excellent idea, so he closes his eyes, trying to find a memory that doesn’t destroy his soul.

One of the Rubys comes into the room, patting his shoulder. Dean can’t be bothered to respond.  “Dean, it’s after 8:00, you need to come to breakfast.”

“Not today.” He mumbles into his pillow.

Her sigh is dramatic with a tinge of annoyance; must be the 2.0 version. “See if you can get him going, Castiel, but take care; the visit with his dad didn’t go well.”

A harsh chuckle clucks from Dean’s throat at the gross understatement. Some small part of his head registers the fact that Cas is back.  He has an inkling to get up just for those bright blue eyes, yet he never moves.

He hears the door closing. Probably best that Cas leaves him too; this is not the day for roommate bonding, or whatever the hell is happening between them.  Cas deserves the best, a perfect guy who can give him the life he never had.  Dean’s a nobody without a job or education.  The bitter realization of how unworthy he is creates an excruciating ache in his chest.

The rush of cool air that splashes over his flesh as someone pulls up the blankets gives Dean a shock, especially since he thought he was alone. Without warning, masculine arms are wrapping around his torso pulling him back into a tight embrace. 

Dean can’t turn around, not yet. Softly, fingernails start to card through his hair; ever so slowly, he finds himself leaning into the physical connection.

“Cas.” He sighs softly.

Supple lips brush over the back of Dean’s neck, releasing a shiver upon his skin. The sensation drowns out his father’s horrid words.  Silent sobs assault Dean’s body as he shakes in pain.  Castiel just holds him through it, never letting go until Dean’s fallen back asleep.

A sharp rapping at the door heaves Dean back to consciousness. He has no idea the time, but he’s sure it’s one of the staff rousing him for lunch.  Dean snuggles into the warm torso behind him.  Castiel hasn’t moved, so neither will Dean.  His heart still hurts, but the skin on skin contact with Cas keeps the worst of the storm at bay.

Another knock at the door has Cas growling faintly behind him. Dean snickers at his roommate’s adorable reaction to his nap disruption.  Evidently, Castiel has no desire to move either because his response is to tighten his embrace on Dean.  Winchester can totally get behind that.

“Dean,” a gruff male calls out. Dean should recognize this voice.  In fact, he’s suddenly extremely aware of his little spoon position.  “Whoa!  Umm, okay…”

Holy shit on a cracker, that is Sam. Dean shoots up, nearly colliding his head with Cas’s chin, but thank God the guys reflexes equal ninja level.  Castiel is out of the covers in less than a second, but remains stern like a sentinel next to Dean’s bed.  His roommate even goes as far to give Sam the stink eye.

Dean sits up, leaning his back against the wall, pulling the blankets up snug around his body. “Sam.”  His throat is dry, so the sound comes out hoarse and grumpy, “What are you doing here?”

“Garth called me this morning.” Sam attempts to sit on the edge of Dean’s mattress, but Cas is having none of that.  The blue-eyed angel actually steps forward, blocking Sam’s attempt to get closer.

“Cas, man, it’s okay. This is my brother, Sammy; one of the good guys.”

His roommate glances back, searching Dean’s face for any distress. Finding none, he nods.  Cas remains tall and pretty scary as he stomps to the other side of the room to sit on his bed.  Once he’s down, Castiel crosses his arms tightly, showing that he’s not going anywhere.  Sam gives the other man a nervous smile before finally taking a seat on the edge of Dean’s mattress.

Dean returns his focus to his baby brother, who’s dressed like he’s about to walk into a courtroom, not sit with his nutter of a sibling. “Why would Garth call you?”

“I’m your court-appointed legal guardian. Whenever something happens, I have made it clear that I get a call immediately.”

“Dude, I’m 29; I don’t need a guardian,” Dean huffs.

Sammy tilts back to give a more easy-going persona. “Look, you’ve been involuntarily committed to a psychiatric hospital.  According to the law, that makes you unfit to make medical decisions and such.  If you don’t want me, I can find –”

“No, no, I’m fine with it being you, it’s just a surprise.” Dean waves off his brother’s building puppy dog look.  “Still, doesn’t explain why you’re here.  Were you just in Little Falls for fun?”

“No, I was home in St. Paul, preparing for court.”

Dean cuts him off, sitting up straight, “Wait! That’s over a two hour drive, How are you going to make it back?”

Sammy rolls his eyes like Dean is being ridiculous. “I re-set the court date and jumped in the car.  Dean, you are more important.”

Out of the corner of his gaze, he can see Castiel bobbing his head in agreement. Crap, now they are both ganging up on him.  “It wasn’t that big of a deal, Sam.”

“Really? Dad completely obliterated you yesterday, and today you are refusing to eat or leave your bed.  I consider that a HUGE deal.”

Dean’s gearing up to reply when Ruby 1.0 walks in, “Castiel, time for lunch.” She glances at Sam, then returns to Cas, “You can eat in Gabriel’s room.”

Shaking his head defiantly, Castiel refuses to budge.

“Oh hell no, I’m not dealing with both of you not eating. Now, Castiel!”  She shoo’s him out the door with a grimace.

Sammy looks slightly shocked, “The nurse’s are rather aggressive.”

“Nah, they do it out of love. Cas does need to eat.”

“And you don’t?” Sam flashes him a classic bitch face. 

Lying back down, Dean tucks the blanket up to his chin, “Leave it be, Sammy.”

“I like the new look,” Sam observes pointing towards his own eyes. “No war paint, just you.”

Dean lifts his fingers, grazing them over his face. He never re-applied his make-up after that bath last night.  A part of him feels vulnerable, more exposed like this, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. 

“Don’t get use to it. I’ll be back to my primping soon enough.”  He attempts a joking tone but it falls flat.

His brother peers back at the open door, “So… you and Caaaaasss seemed rather cozy when I came in earlier.”

“Is that a problem?” Dean challenges, because he’s got zero patience for homophobic shit.

“Absolutely not!” Sam’s face is resolute, leaving no doubt to his sincerity.  “My goal is for you to be happy and healthy, Dean.  Anybody who helps in that pursuit is only an asset.”

“Cas has an amazing ass.” Dean smirks.

His brother chuckles faintly, covering his cheeks as they go crimson. “God, you are horrible.  I don’t need the details.”

This, of course, goads Dean into overshare mode, “His mouth truly is a wonderland, and those fingers—”

“Stop!” His brother drags his fingers through his unruly locks, “Stop now, please, of all that is holy, stop now.”

The two brother’s just watch the space between them as silence settles. Dean feels one of the many knots in his stomach suddenly releasing, and the pain is a little better.  Sam is okay with Cas, with Dean liking guys.  Dean couldn’t have asked for more.

Scoffing a bit, Sammy ventures, “Tell me what happened yesterday with Dad.”

“In a nutshell, our loving pops said if I didn’t go back to bounty hunting with him after my stint here, I would end up alone.” Dean glimpses up at his brother, who is obviously waiting for more.  “He said I was a pathetic son of a bitch with no skills, no education, and nobody else would want me.”

With an inquisitive eyebrow raised, Sam asks, “Anything else?”

“Something about not having anyone to hold my hand when I’m…” Dean mumbles the last bit, “dead on the floor.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Dean!” Sam’s so angry he shoots up to full height, inhaling deeply.  “That jackass!”

“Calm down. Calm down, you big moose,” Dean chides, pointing to his brother’s previous spot.  “Sit, or I stop talking.”

This gets Sam moving, and he immediately complies, returning to his seat. “Dean.  That will NEVER happen.”

Slumping further into his bed, Dean whispers “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sammy.”

Sam gets his face right in Dean’s. “I’m not.”

“You’re having a kid. Trust me, they take a lot of work.  Won’t have time to race up here when I have a bad day.”  A single tear slips down Dean’s cheek.

Shifting faster than Dean can process, Sam jerks his older brother from his cocoon, holding him tightly to his chest. The hug breaks the dam that Dean’s been struggling to keep in check.  Tears pour from Dean’s eyes, soaking the pristine Hugo Boss suit.  He would feel bad, but a minute later, Sam is shaking from his own sobs.

“You are important, Dean. I will always be here.”  Sam’s heartfelt statement rips at the last of Dean’s resolve, as both men fall into a cleansing by teardrops.

Sometime later the sobs halt, but the embrace continues, neither brother willing to let go first. The safety of this place and the trust he has in Sam pushes Dean to share one more detail of his fated meeting with their father.

“Dad wants to break me out.”

“What the hell?” Sam sits back, but keeps his hands on Dean’s shoulders.  “Tell me exactly what he said.”

“He gave me a note that said January 23rd at 4:10pm, be ready.  I told him no, that I don’t want to go but…”

Finally, Sam breaks the hold to lean against the foot of the bed. “That bastard can’t let you be happy.”

“Look, I told him no, and that I wanted to do something different with my life. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“I’m getting a restraining order. He won’t be allowed to go within a 100 feet of you or this hospital.  Watch him violate that and keep his precious job.  As of today, that man will not hurt you.”

Dean feels the black hole tugging him under. He betrayed his father.  What sort of crappy-ass son is he?  He knows somewhere Sam’s still talking, planning, and overall being an awesome brother.  Dean can’t seem to find the willpower to care.  Everyone continues to fret over him, and he can’t for the life of him figure out why? 

Closing his eyes, Dean mummifies himself under the covers, letting the darkness finally swallow him whole.

He’s not worth the effort.

It feels a lot like drowning, but you just don’t have the strength to swim, to fight, to reach for the light. The world will go on without him, and be better off for it.  Perhaps this was his mother’s last thought too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER: Dark Depression
> 
> Love you all very much! Big hugs. Comments, concerns, and questions are a cherished commodity. 
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	12. The Candy Man Can’t

* * *

 

Dean rests silently in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Sam is long gone and Castiel had his session with Shurely, so here he lies trapped in his worst nightmare, all alone. Ruby 1.0 came in right as Sam was leaving, handing Dean a little white cup with two pills inside. Dean didn’t ask and Sam stood watching until his older brother swallowed them properly. It didn’t seem to matter; Sam had given consent so there was no choice to be made.

The drapes are open, releasing the early evening sun to splatter light over the puckered ceiling. Dean has spent most the day mapping out the movement of sunlight. A loud bang at his door rouses his attention from the interesting paint patterns above his head.

“What’s your poison?” Gabriel asks, holding out several lollipops to Dean. “I’ve got cherry, grape, watermelon, and brown.” Gabe frowns at the mysterious flavor. “I’ll give you a dollar to figure it out for me.”

“Why are you in here?” Dean asks in a listless tone.

True to Gabe’s personality the man ignores his query, snagging a chair and dragging it loudly to Dean’s bedside. “I bet it’s root beer, but should I risk it?”

Dean rolls his eyes; there really is no chance of winning against Cas’s older brother. “It’s one lick. How can it hurt?”

“That’s the rub, isn’t it?” Gabriel pulls the offending pop to his nose sniffing. “Even if I’m 99% sure I will like it, love it even, I still hold back out of some preconceived notion. Fear of the unknown is weird like that.”

“I don’t have the energy to decipher your crazy talk today, Gabriel.” Cas’s big brother strikes Dean’s nose multiple times with the candy until Winchester shoves his hand away, yelling, “Ouch man, what the hell?”

Ripping open the brown one, Gabriel bites into it, pausing for full effect. “Cappuccino, even better.”

“Fine, give me the grape.” Dean opens the candy, slipping it into his mouth. It’s been a while since he’s had a lollipop. The taste reminds him of Halloween and the sugar definitely helps a little. Perhaps this is Gabe’s secret for his constant source of energy. “Really though, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m sure you will survive the hour alone, but I am under strict orders to keep you company and try and get you to eat something. Well, guess I’ve completed my mission.” Gabriel winks with a smirk.

Dean sits up, grabbing the sheets to stay at least decently covered. He’s still in his underwear from last night. “It’s a sucker. Not sure it really counts as food.”

“Maybe, but my orders were to get something in your stomach. The nutritional value of said item was never discussed,” he spits out over a crunch of candy.

The two men sit for a while, eating the sweets. Dean does feel a little better, but he’s not going to let that go to Gabriel’s head. The man would be insufferable.

Gabriel glances over at the open door as he confesses, “It’s weird when you have to let your little brother take care of you; kind of like you’re failing the big brother code or something.”

“Yeah.” Dean nods. “We haven’t been close in years, so it definitely throws me for a loop.”

“I don’t know what that’s like. Me and the guys have always been together. Our little merry band seems to stick it out in bad times and even worse times, but in being here I learned something.”

“What’s that?” Dean is honestly curious because he does respect Gabe’s mad older brother skills.

“That when I let them take care of me, we both win in the end.” The older man tilts back in his seat, scratching his hair. “It was the five of us, well, eight, if you counted Anna and Hannah against the Heavenly Host. We didn’t always succeed, but we did survive.”

“Did they not teach you math in the commune? That’s only seven,” Dean chides.

A sadness washes over Gabe’s expression like he’s lost in a memory that will always taunt him. His response is hauntingly monotone, “Only seven survived.”

The words slip from his lips without warning, “What happened to eight?”

“Her name was Hael, the youngest of our crew. Shit, you think Cassie has beauty? Hael’s would take your breath away.” Gabe’s eyes close, so much hurt bleeds from his stance. “It was her death that set us free from Michael, yet sent us running into the cold arms of insanity.”

“Jesus.” Dean whispers. He desperately wants to question Gabriel further about the dead sister; however, the stricken face of his friend quashes all queries. Instead, he decides to focus on the other two Gabe mentioned.

Huddling against the headboard, he inquires, “Are Anna and Hannah in the women’s tower?”

“Anna yes, Hannah no. One out of seven is pretty bad odds, but maybe one day you will meet Hannah. She visits on occasion. Her husband works here, so she pops up to visit.”

He’s not sure he should ask, but Gabriel seems to be in such a talkative mood that he has to try. “Where is Michael?”

“Oh, that asshole is locked up tight at the Minnesota Correctional Facility at Oak Park Heights.”

That makes sense, Dean has, of course, heard of the facility, even drove a few captures there for the handover. It is one of the highest levels of maximum security prisons in the country. Basically to get in there you did something very violent, very scary, and the government is one step away from throwing away the key. The good news is there is no way in hell Michael can escape, so Cas is safe. Which helps ease Dean’s mind a lot.

Smacking his thigh, Gabe stands up, “I have something for you.”

Dean shakes his head from the quick draw emotional change in Gabe, and he waits as Gabriel dashes from the room to return seconds later with a box in his hands. “Zachy boy just sent it to me for Castiel.”

One thing Dean has learned is to not stick his nose in the odd dance Cas and Zachariah do to avoid each other. He’s fairly certain that there’s a story there, but Dean has faith that his angel will tell him in his own time.

“Here.” Gabe hands him the slim crème box. “It’s for you.”

“I thought you said it was Cas’s,” Dean replies, accepting the gift.

Bouncing his head wildly Gabe sits again. “Well, Castiel asked me to ask Zach for it so then Cassie could give it to you. You see?”

“Barely.” Dean deadpans.

Lifting the top, Dean glances down at a gorgeous leather journal. The material to make it, even down to the thick paper within its binding is extremely high quality. This must have cost a 100 bucks, easy. He grazes his fingertips over the supple leather, inhaling the intoxicating scent.

“Why?” He says with awe.

Pulling a candy bar from his pocket, Gabriel takes a bite before replying, “We all have one. Helps dear little Cassie to chat. You know this, tough guy.”

“I know, but everyone else’s are cheap composition notebooks from Wal-Mart.” He takes the journal out of the box, pulling it tight to his chest. “This is really expensive.”

“I believe Cassie’s request was for the best one Zach could find, and not to skimp. My little brother doesn’t usually touch his allowance, so this must have been important to him.”

“Still doesn’t answer why?”

Gabriel rises, strutting over to Castiel’s desk digging around until he finds a black sharpie. “The first page has a note. You read it while I work on a dick mural over here.”

He should stop Gabe, but the draw to read his first personalized journal entry takes his focus. Dean waves off the crazy man with a marker, opening to the message from Cas.

_Dear Dean,_

_Dr. Shurely encourages me to correspond with the people in my life who are vital to my health and happiness. I now count you among that number. These past few weeks have been some of the best of my life. Although, the touching is high on the list, I also enjoy having your presence in my world._

_Simply holding your hand tethers me to your strength, your kindness, and your magnificent heart. I feel blessed to call you my friend. We both know that our relationship is growing. What it blossoms into has yet to be decided; however, I want it to be very clear that I am on board for whatever forms._

_You once asked about the significance of my tattoos. At the time I was not prepared to share my past with all its ugliness. I am ready. These pages will give me the freedom to tell my story. I would also like you to respond in kind with either stories of your own, or questions that you fear to speak out loud. Writing is safe. These words between us will be cherished and help to set us free._

_Along my arms and shoulders are several deep scarlet cosmos flowers. I chose the flower because they grew in the garden behind my childhood home. The colors of the garden were, of course, more vibrant and mixed, but the crimson shade helps to hide the scars left by years of abuse by Michael and his mindless soldiers._

_Some of my favorite memories of my life before the hospital are from that garden. Planting the seeds, watching the bees dance from bud to bud, and lying in the grass watching the clouds pass me by. I would always pick a cloud and make a wish to release into the atmosphere in the hope it will come true._

_You, Dean Winchester, are an answer to one of those wishes upon a cloud._

_Yours always,_

_Cas_

“Fuck,” Dean sighs, looking up to see Gabe leaning over Cas’s desk, drawing furiously. He’s just about to ask Gabriel a question when Cas strolls in holding a tray of food.

It’s like Gabe has a radar for this shit because immediately his head pops up grinning brightly. “Hey there, Cassie. See? Lover boy is alive, and I fed him a lollipop.” With that, the older brother flees the room, laughing maniacally.

“Is that for me?” Dean points to the tray.

Castiel nods, pushing the chair away so he can comfortably sit on Dean’s mattress. The single plate holds a grilled cheese, cut into fourths, and apple slices. Leaving the tray on the floor, Cas brings up one small portion of sandwich.

There is absolutely no reaction from his stomach, although the meds are helping the clouds to pass, he’s still not up to eating. Dean shakes his head with a slight frown. Cas uses his free hand to tap a single digit to Dean’s lips, then to his own, smacking them loudly.

“If I take a bite, you will trade it for a kiss?” The thought doesn’t wipe away the frown completely, although his body is definitely perking up.

His roommate gives a faint nod, then smirks, knowingly. No one moves; Castiel isn’t going anywhere and he’s making it a point of fact.

Finally, Dean caves because seriously, who wouldn’t, “Fine, hand me the grilled cheese.”

Lifting his fingers to snag the food, Dean is surprised when Cas smacks his hand away. The stern look he gives Dean leaves absolutely zero negotiations. Castiel is going to feed him. A shiver sweeps over Dean’s flesh at the idea. Cas grabs the plate from the floor, balancing it near Dean’s pillow, then proceeds to straddle him.

Dean coughs a little as his body adjusts to the angel in his lap, and Cas cocks his eyebrow quizzically. All Dean has to do is say no and the other man will be off him in seconds, but no way in hell is Dean going to say a word, so he just nods his reply.

Opening his mouth, he bites down on the corner offered to him. The cheese is some high quality stuff, and real butter has been slathered over the bread. This is the best freaking grilled cheese Dean has had in ages, well, of course, being fed by his own personal angel doesn’t hurt. Once he’s done chewing, a gentle supple kiss brushes over his lips. Dean follows that mouth when Cas tilts back until a hand to his chest halts his progression. The sandwich is back in his face. Dean’s never chewed faster in his life.

As the meal continues, their kisses begin to taste like warm butter and sweet apples. Dean’s mind wanders to kissing Cas after an apple pie and WOW, that’s something to recall later. The motions are slow. Cas takes his time, using his free hand to carefully rub Dean’s shoulder. A constant need to have a physical connection is developing between the two men.

Oceans of blue eyes never close and keep a laser focus trained on Dean. It’s like the intense gaze is locking something permanent betwixt them, a secret spell that only one of them can break.

His roommate rotates between quarter pieces of sandwich and slices of apple until they have gone through the entire meal. The kisses linger longer and longer, but remain fairly chaste, that is until Dean swallows his last morsel of apple. With the plate empty, Cas uses his now free hands to card through Dean’s hair, tugging his face in for a deep kiss. Their mouths glide open in unison, allowing tongues to caress and soothe the other, urgently filling their darkest desires. Dean’s hands drag up Cas’s torso, feeling the warmth of the other man.

The kiss is amazing, like breaking through the surface and inhaling air when your lungs are screaming for oxygen. With each swipe of his tongue, Dean goes deeper into the other man until they are practically grinding with tongues and teeth. His lips are swelling from the abuse, yet Dean doesn’t want to stop. Castiel’s erection is pounding into Dean’s hip and it’s glorious, except for one problem.

Dean’s 100% into touching and kissing Cas, but his dick is flagging a bit. Not soft, but also not able to match Castiel’s rock hard cock. This realization gives Dean a moment of pause, and that’s when Cas suddenly notices the difference as well. He sits back, removing the luscious heat of his skin and lips.

Long, gorgeous fingers ghost over his failing member, causing Dean to blush as his fist tightens in anger. What the fuck is wrong with him? How can he be lying in a bed with one of the hottest people Dean’s ever known, and his cock won’t follow through?

Sheepishly Dean whispers, “I’m sorry. Fucker doesn’t want to work.”

Raising his hand to Dean’s face, Cas cups his chin, using his thumb to stroke at his cheek. Then he plants a very delicious kiss to Dean’s mouth. Lowering his own palm down to Cas’s groin, Dean begins to rub the other man’s cock through his pants. Castiel snatches his wrist, freezing.

“I want to, Cas,” Dean’s hushed voice goes raspy, “Please.”

Dean slips his fingers into Castiel’s scrubs, tugging on the fabric until he’s got a decent hold on the erection, vigilant to not expose more skin than necessary. The tip is already wet with pre-cum, so Dean uses that to slick the path. Cas dips down, placing his forehead on Dean’s, their noses touching. All Dean can see is sparkling blue irises and they are fucking stunning. Carefully, so not to hurt Cas, Dean strokes the cock in his hand, performing every trick in his repertoire. It’s not long until his angel is panting heavily, thrusting into Dean’s palm. They inhale and exhale together. Dean can practically taste Cas in the air.

His angel tosses his head back, grunting as he cums all over Dean’s chest. Neither man moves as Cas returns his forehead to Dean’s so they can stare at each other. The only sound in the space is their breathing as Cas’s load cools on his flesh.

A soothing grin forms on Cas’s lips, settling any of Dean’s anxiety. This is the way it will be with them. A give and take, equal partnership with absolutely no judgement. Dean kisses Castiel, hoping that the mute man feels the passion he does with each moment they are united. Perhaps taking turns will become one of their many games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All! Thanks for reading and as always comments and questions are highly encouraged.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	13. Truth be Written

* * *

 

 

_Hey Cas,_

_I’m finding it a little weird to be writing to you when you’re sitting next to me, but I get it, this is a way for us to really talk. You’ve been my roommate and friend for weeks now, and I think I know you. Ok, I would actually really enjoy getting to know you better. ; ) (That’s a winky face by the way.)_

_No wonder you like the gardens out back. Are there any of those cosmos flowers planted here? I would like to see them when the snow finally goes away._

_I never got the chance to watch a garden grow. We were always on the move, and our Uncle Bobby wasn’t really the garden type. His yard was full of junkers and shit, instead of fancy flowers. I do remember my mom growing a vegetable garden. Strawberries, that’s a memory I have of her; sitting in the grass as she picked strawberries. She would hand me one and laugh as the juices ran down my chin. I wonder if that garden is still around._

_So two questions to start, what is your favorite color? Mine is blue. Who is your favorite band? Mine is Led Zeppelin, and favorite song is Ramble On._

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I would have enjoyed meeting your mother. She seems like a wonderful person. The garden out back does, in fact, have cosmos flowers. I planted them myself. Perhaps, we should research whether strawberries will grow in Minnesota. Feeding you strawberries from our very own garden sounds delightful. I do not need to wink. I have full confidence in your ability to understand the innuendo._

_I find it odd that your questions are so generic; however, I will always answer. My favorite color is yellow, bright like the sun or the stripes on a honey bee. As to who is my favorite band, I’m not sure I have one. I have come to enjoy music in all its forms. When we were children, Michael did not allow anything that would sully our minds. This meant no music, no TV, and only books that were approved by him. In fact, we were not allowed to read the New Testament of the bible for fear the teachings of Jesus would give us ideas. Michael preferred the wrath and fear of the Old Testament._

_Now, whenever I hear music I want to engulf myself in the sound and keep it forever. I have also found that I enjoy dancing. Will you dance with me one evening? If you are nervous about prying eyes, we can do it after lights out in our room. Gabriel has a small radio we can borrow._

_Tell me about the tattoos on your neck. The noose and the gun._

_Yours completely,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Hey Cas,_

_I don’t know about the dancing. That’s not really my thing, maybe on a special holiday or something. Speaking of which, when is your birthday? Why don’t you guys have last names? What is it with you and bees?_

_The tattoos represent the two ways I want to leave this world. Either on my own terms or –_

_Shot down in a blaze of glory_

_Take me now but know the truth_

_Cause I’m going down in a blaze of glory_

_Lord I never drew first, but I drew first blood_

_I’m the devil’s son, Call me young gun_

_I know it’s morbid, but I’ve never thought growing old or dying from some horrible disease is the way I want to go. You know?_

_Alright, so if you weren’t allowed to read the New Testament, then why the cross tattoo on your hand?_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I am very distressed by the thought that you have no intentions of growing old. Yes, there are unwanted side effects of aging, but perhaps I can sway your opinion. Gabriel has assured me that in our new budding physical relationship, I have things you will want to exchange for favors. He has recommended I offer a lifetime of blowjobs in exchange for you living out a long life. Since I have never performed such a task, Gabriel suggests practicing before a deal is met._

_FYI. Cucumbers are not sufficient teaching materials._

_I also do not understand the poetical reference in your last note. Although, I am not a fan of your father, I doubt he is the devil._

_The Heavenly Host did not believe in birthdays, nor did we keep any type of calendar. In fact, none of us know the days of our actual births; however, Hester swears it was in the spring, just as the flowers were blooming. Usually around the 1 st of May I add another year to my age. I don’t have a last name, not really. Michael’s last name was Milton, which he gave to all the children born at Heavenly Hosts. Most of us choose to not keep that name as it associates us with a monster._

_I have always loved animals, Dean. There are so many beautiful creatures, great and small, but yes, I have a special affinity for bees. They have a vital role in agricultural cycles that help produce the food we eat, but mainly because Michael is afraid of bee stings. I once watched him sprint from my garden as he fled from a harmless honey bee. Needless to say, I planted Catmint, Calendula, and Lavender because they are on all the top lists for attracting my buzzing friends. Gadreel and Inias would often catch them in jars, releasing them in Michael’s private quarters just to hear our tormentor scream._

_As to the meaning behind my cross tattoo, it is quite simple. One of the first things I did after leaving the Heavenly Host compound was to read the New Testament. I know very little about the religions that use it as a symbol. For me, it was another thing that Michael kept hidden away that my freedom has brought to light. Also, I saw it on the wall of the tattoo shop in Little Falls and thought it was pretty._

_Yours continually,_

_Castiel_

_\-------_

_Hey Cas,_

_The song I was quoting is ‘Blaze of Glory’ by Bon Jovi. We really need to work on teaching you the classics._

_You gotta warn a guy before talking about blowjobs. I was reading your entry at lunch and nearly choked on my hotdog. No pun needed._

_If we were to go further with the sex stuff, it would mean I would see you naked. I’m 100% on board with nudity, but I know you are worried. Thus far I feel my ability to give one hell of a hand job is limited by you remaining dressed. Just saying, a naked Cas would definitely keep my motor running for years to come._

_I’m giving you full disclosure here out of our vow for honesty. The new meds have been messing with my ability to get hard. Shurley has promised me it is only temporary, but it does kind of make the whole blowjob thing useless. Sorry._

_Speaking of gay stuff, I saw the massive tub of Vaseline in your closet. Not sure we need that much, Cas. I think we are several steps from Vaseline. My pecker has got to be up for pecking, ya know? Actually, what are your thoughts on where the Vaseline should go? Are you feeling more front or back? No pressure, just curious; asking questions and all that shit._

_Sorry about the mustard stain; leftover from the hotdog incident, but that begs the question. Why don’t you eat in the commons when you are awake?_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_Gadreel played me several Jon Bon Jovi hits, including the one you referenced. I find his music pleasurable. Thank you for encouraging my musical education._

_I do not understand your many ponderings of Vaseline. Do you not comprehend the act of anal intercourse? Whoever is the penetrator places the substance on their penis, and whoever is the penetrated will extensively open their anus with fingers and liberally place the jelly inside. It may be beneficial for you to watch the DVD Gabriel gave to me._

_Do not fret over your current flaccid issue. This isn’t a race, Dean, and you are worth the wait._

_The idea of you seeing my flesh is unsettling. My childhood was fraught with abuse that has left my skin littered with marks and scars. Also, in keeping with total honesty, I have marked my own body at very low times in my life. Those abrasions tend to bother me more than all the rest._

_In response to your question concerning my eating habits, there are two reasons I do not take my meals with the group. First, when I am in a catatonic state I am fed through a feeding tube. I have been told on numerous occasions that the odor is awful and could affect people’s ability to eat. Secondly, another side effect of eating through a tube so often is that my throat and stomach sometimes regurgitate my meal. I agree with the complaints that watching someone gag, burp, and vomit can be unappetizing._

_Tell me about the black muscle car on your shoulder blade._

_Yours infinitely,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Hey Cas,_

_We need to make a deal. I will stop planning an early death if you stop hurting yourself too. The past is the past, and I think you’re sexy regardless of scars. I have a few myself that I will show you one day. I could kiss each one and help remind you that you are special._

_Hahahaha, OMG Cas I was crying from laughing so hard. I have a pretty good idea of how anal sex works. I was asking if you feel more like a top or a bottom. Again, no pressure, just interested in everything ‘Cas’._

_Who complained about your eating issues? Tell me their names, I will kick their asses until they take it all back. Don’t worry about me, I’ve got one hell of a strong stomach. Growing up it was always me that cleaned up my brother when he was sick. Puke and all the noises that go with it do NOT bother me. Maybe I could join you for lunch in the media room when it’s empty?_

_The black car on my shoulder blade is a 1967 Chevy Impala. It’s my dad’s car, but one day I pray he gives it to me. That car is more of a home to me than anywhere else on the planet. Sometimes when we are on the chase of a fugitive and don’t have the money or time to get a motel, we will sleep in her. I’ve never slept better, well, until I came here._

_Why the ‘An Angel of the Lord’ tattoo?_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_You seem to have quite the relationship with a car. Should I be jealous? The ‘An Angel of the Lord’ tattoo was actually Gabriel’s idea. We all have one, mine just happens to be the most predominant. Gadreel and Samandriel both have the words scrawled across their back, while Inias has it in small script along his hip. Gabriel being Gabriel has it directly over his butt crack. I’d be ashamed, but it’s quite funny when people see it. No matter my past, my name remains Castiel, Angel of Thursday. In that regard, I will always be an angel of the Lord. Michael can never steal that from any of us._

_There is no reason to become violent over requests that I take my meals alone. I don’t mind; however, I do like the idea of a private lunch with you. A first date, shall we say? Nothing too soon; it will have to be something I work up to, but it’s healthy to have goals. What are some of your goals?_

_The revealing of my scars is another objective I will need to gradually approach. I’m not saying no, but let’s work on lunch first._

_After a long and arduous discussion with my brothers, I now fully comprehend ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ in regard to male on male copulation. Currently, I would like to explore both sides. Gabriel informs me that your need to be ‘macho’ will instantaneously force you to choose ‘top’. He also reminds me that negotiations are often part of foreplay. What are your thoughts?_

_If you do not return to bounty hunting, what is a career you would like to pursue?_

_Yours greatly,_

_Castiel_

_\-------_

_Hey Cas,_

_Normally I would agree that you should be jealous over Baby, that’s the nickname for the Impala; however, when it comes to you, there is no contest. I’d take those gorgeous eyes over sleek American design any day._

_A date? Hadn’t really thought about it, but sure, why not? Just tell me when and where so I can be there with bells on._

_DO NOT BELIEVE Gabriel’s recollection of the shower incident this morning. I was not ogling his ass in hopes of mounting him. I wanted to see that stupid tattoo, and the bastard kept bouncing around like an idiot. That man shoves way too much sugar down his gullet. Does he ever sleep?_

_Currently I have two targets to hit before I get out of here. One, I want to get my GED. Met with the tutor chick a couple of days ago and she’s testing me next week to see where I’m at. Dude, this is probably a waste of time, but I should try, right? Two, I was thinking of asking Sam to help me find a place to live in Little Falls. You know, nothing big, maybe two bedrooms. I’d like to visit and stuff. Do you think you will ever get released, Cas?_

_I have always wanted to help build things. Sounds crazy, I know, but watching a blank space become a house is really cool. Not sure if I want to do construction, or maybe get into like design and stuff. Guess I will have to wait and see._

_Okay, so please, in the future, do not discuss our thing with your brothers. Maybe one is fine, but all of them is a bit much, especially when they gang up on me to ask really fucking personal questions. I was on the treadmill, I could have died._

_Exploring sounds cool. This is all uncharted territory for me, so yeah, we can figure it out together._

_Hey, what happened to Hael?_

_Dean_

_\--------_

_Dear Dean,_

_Hael_

_\------_

_Jesus Cas,_

_I am so sorry, so so sorry. Please forgive me. I don’t have any good reasons for asking you about Hael. It was stupid and all I can say is I’m sorry. I found you at your desk, the journal open, your hand still on the pen._

_I did this; I triggered you, and I feel horrible. Gabriel is furious with me. None of your brothers will talk to me, and I don’t know how to fix it._

_Cas, please come back to me. Seeing you lost in your own body because of something I did hurts more than any beating I’ve ever taken._

_Come back Cas._

_Please Cas._

_I am begging you._

_Cas… Cas… Cas_

_\-------_

_Gabriel won’t let me push your wheelchair._

_Gadreel punched me in the nose. I deserved it._

_Fairly certain Ed peed on my bed. Not sure that’s connected. He seems to do that._

_Dr. Shurley told me to keep writing. That it well help when you wake._

_Inias played cards with me in the commons. I almost cried from gratitude._

_I miss your smile. When you go on your mental hiatuses, I get lonely. My life has this Cas size hole in it._

_Please forgive me._

_My birthday is in three days. Which means in two days is the date my father wanted to break me out. I’ve been told that I will be restricted to the ward for the entire day._

_Gabriel and Gadreel took you outside without me. Our room feels too big without you in it._

_I sat for an hour holding your hand in the media room. My mind focused on one sentence that I chanted in my mind over and over. “Squeeze my hand, Cas.”_

_You never moved a muscle. It broke me a little inside._

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I found it helpful to read your entries. There is nothing to forgive Dean. You simply asked a question. That is what this journal experience is for, a way for us to openly express our feelings, concerns, and questions._

_Yes, discussing Hael is extremely difficult for me, but I had every intention of doing it when I went under. Perhaps, your query triggered the event; however, that doesn’t make it wrong. Sometimes we have to face the harder realities of our life to move past them. I am 30 years old, and have been in therapy for nearly a decade. We were freed from Michael when I was 20. Hael is a difficult story to tell, but my own is much worse._

_All of my brothers have been chastised for their behavior towards you. I will not have you blamed for a condition that has plagued me since Hael’s death. Yes, I lost my voice at 15 after surviving three days of torture. I didn’t start having my spells until I was 19 and watched Hael’s murder._

_Let me start at the beginning:_

_Hael is Hebrew for angel of kindness. She truly lived up to her name. Never a harsh word, always a smile and a hug whenever you needed it. Hael was the purest definition of kindness._

_For about a year leading up to Hael’s death, our small circle of eight started becoming restless. Gabriel’s pranks were getting bigger and more elaborate. Gadreel had begun hoarding maps of the United States. Anna kept changes of clothes for each of us hidden under her bed. I was already broken, unable to help, but their love for me pushed my brothers and sisters to want out. The end result of our growing rebellious behavior was our tormentors felt someone needed to be sacrificed as an example. Ruling with fear was always Michael’s go-to method._

_Hael was only 13 years old. One morning after the snow had melted, Lucifer and Uriel collected us at gunpoint. We were taken to the basement. Punishments were doled out in the windowless room with cement floors. I had been there several times before, but normally without the others. Myself, Gadreel, Gabriel, Inias, Samandriel, Hannah, and Anna were chained to bolts in the floor, giving us a perfect view of our baby sister on the rack._

_The dank, dark basement was our own personal hell._

_We stayed shackled to the cement as Lucifer, Uriel, and Michael took turns torturing our beloved Hael. Stripping her skin away in long, delicate pieces like shoestrings. It required multiple hours for her to bleed to death, her screams stopped after just one. Gabriel and Gadreel felt responsible, attributing her corpse to their own inability to take care of her._

_My first catatonic state occurred while in that hell hole. Two days later I resurfaced to discover Hannah had vanished into thin air. The following week, the authorities arrived with a warrant. They went straight to the spot where Michael forced the others to bury her body. Several months later we all became wards of the state until after Michael’s trial._

_Did you know that flowers have true meanings? You can tell a story or merely make a statement with flowers alone. I now have three stems of bluebells over my heart. Bluebells, according to the books I read, mean kindness. I wear them for her, my sister, my savior._

_Simply yours,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_Shit man, just, shit. I don’t know how to respond to your letter. I’ve already hugged you, kissed you, and sang you two Beatles songs, but it’s not enough. You are amazing._

_Yes, when the time is right, I will dance with you._

_Yes, I will be whatever you need._

_Thanks for griping at your brothers. They have all given apologies, so everything is cool._

_How about we lighten the mood? If you were to pick a flower to symbolize me, what would it be?_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_The extra affection has been highly appreciated. I feel you are enjoying it just as much as I am. When you least expect it, music will appear and dancing shall ensue. : )_

_Your birthday is tomorrow. This makes me very happy._

_The first flower I would choose already drapes across your torso. It’s actually not a flower, but the Oak tree leaf, which symbolizes strength. You are not only physically strong, Dean, but emotionally as well. However, if I was to specifically pick a flower, it would be the primrose._

_Enjoy figuring it out._

_Yours immortally,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Hey Cas,_

_Man, I’m supposed to be using the laptop to study for my GED, not look up the meaning of primrose. Actually, as soon as I read it, all I could think was the chick from Hunger Games. She was cool, but not a lot of similarities. Then I let Mr. Google do his thing and …Eternal Love._

_Umm that seems a bit heavy, don’t ya think. We haven’t even used the Vaseline._

_Don’t make a big deal about the birthday._

_I’m not against the primrose for us in the future. Maybe we should have that lunch together and just see where it goes. I saw pictures of the flower when I was researching its meaning. The ones I saw were yellow, like your favorite color. They would definitely make a beautiful tattoo, something to think about._

_Dean_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being awesome!! As always I adore hearing from you so drop me a comment and make my day.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	14. Death of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in this chapter and the reason for the title is;  
> “Death of Me” (Guillotine Remix) by Red

* * *

 

Dean stumbles out of the bathroom still trying to wake up when Cas jumps out at him like a ninja, startling Dean so badly he smashes into the door.His roommate is holding up a handmade sign; done in a rainbow of colors and finished off with silver glitter which reads: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN!

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean blushes taking the sign and grinning, “but I told you not to make a big deal about it.”

Cas rolls his eyes so dramatically Dean fears they will fall out.Apparently, to Castiel, Dean is being ridiculous.The world tilts as Dean is pushed against the wall, Cas’s muscular arms caging him in deliciously.Inch by inch his roommate’s face closes in on Dean’s until their lips are but a breath apart.God, Dean’s melting into the wall as Castiel slams his lips onto the hunter, letting their mouths grind against each other in a passionate kiss.Jesus H. Christ!Cas is one hell of an enigma.One minute he’s all timid touches and faint smiles, then he gets a fucking bee up his bonnet, and holy hell, the beast is released.Dean has zero doubts that this is why they work.The yin yang of their relationship hums beautifully.When his handsome friend needs Dean, he’s perfectly willing to take the lead, but fuck, moments like these are downright sinful!

The burn left as Castiel’s scruff slides over his delicate skin is mouthwatering.Thank God he just brushed his teeth.Once they pull apart, panting, Cas hands him a small note.

_Welcome to the 30’s club. ; )_

“Yeah, let’s not announce my age.”Dean’s not self-conscious about turning 30, but shouting it from the rooftops is also not high on his priority list.

Lacing their fingers together, Castiel guides Dean through an oddly silent hall.Typically, there are guys meandering in and out of the shower room, and some heading towards breakfast.The quiet puts Dean’s teeth on edge.They make their way out to the commons when the entire hall and staff yell, “Happy Birthday, Dean!”

He has no clue how to process this show of appreciation just for him.In fact, Dean’s birthdays usually consist of a grumbled ‘Happy Birthday’ from his dad, and a card from Sam.Speaking of which, there stands the oversized human, holding a large package wrapped in paper with multi-colored balloons.

Hugging his brother first, Dean quips, “Sammy, I’m 30, not 10,” waving towards the gift.

“Jess wouldn’t let me out of the house until it was cheery.”Sam hands him the colorful box, smiling widely.

When Dean turns to the closest table to open it, he spots three more gifts with differing forms of wrapping and an actual birthday cake with his name on it.Dean was 16 and living with Bobby the last time he saw his name scrawled out in green icing.“Cake for breakfast?”

Garth pats his shoulder, “I think we all deserve a little break form the norm, don’t you?”

Marv and Ed are practically salivating over the sweet treat.Smiling brightly, Dean returns to his presents.Sam’s gift is, of course, way more than Dean deserves; his own personal laptop.

“Sammy, this is too much.”

“Nope, you need to have one to work on your GED.It’s a present, Dean, you can’t take it back.”Sam’s long hair swishes with the shake of his head.

“The loaner I have from the hospital works fine, but ok.”Dean chuckles joyfully, running his fingers over the new computer.“Thanks man, this is great.”

Sammy hugs him tight, and the embrace is calming to Dean’s nerves.The next gift is from the brothers: Gabriel, Samandriel, Gadreel, and Inias.It’s a complete collection of Kurt Vonnegut’s stories.Dean thanks them each profusely for remembering his favorite author.The third box is from the staff.Two study guides for passing the GED.

Finally, Dean opens his gift from Cas.The wrapping is a simple, white, 11 x 13 envelope with his name in cursive on the front.Inside is a green sheet of construction paper. On the top in blue sticker letters is written: _Dean’s future Goals._ The page is broken into 6 boxes with thick, dark black lines.The first box holds a stick drawing of two men eating lunch at a table.The second one has GED in block letters, next is a picture cut from a magazine of two guys dancing, along with several musical notes drawn around them.After that is a photo of a Vaseline jar.That one makes Dean’s cheeks go a deep crimson, and he refuses to explain its meaning; although, Gabriel’s laughter leads him to believe the brothers already know.The fifth box has another magazine picture of a muscular blonde swinging a hammer while working on an elaborate house.

Dean freezes when he sees the final box, his eyes lifting to search out Cas’s blue irises.The open, kind smile on his gorgeous face tells Dean volumes.He reaches out, gently petting the single picture of a yellow primrose flower.

An overwhelming sensation pours through his mind as he fights the tears forming in the corner of his eyes.Of all the boxes, the primrose settles in his soul.How does the Sheryl Crow song go? The first cut is the deepest?Cas has taken the first cut and Dean won’t ever heal.

The rest of the room begins chanting, “CAKE, CAKE, CAKE.”

Ruby 1.0 lights two candles, lifting the dessert to Dean’s mouth as the group sings an awful rendition of Happy Birthday.Cas stands silent, but his breathtaking smile is ever present.After Dean blows out the candles, the nurse cuts everyone a piece, making sure Dean gets the largest slice.Usually he prefers pie, but this morning, he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

Sam sits next to him at the table along with Cas, who doesn’t eat.It’s a tight squeeze to fit 6 people at their normal spot, but as usual, they make it work.Sam regales them with some of his favorite childhood memories of Dean.His roommate barely blinks, completely enraptured by the tall tales.The one where Dean attempts cow tipping and fails miserably, wandering back to the motel covered in cow shit gets Samandriel laughing so hard he blows cake bits all over Gabriel.That sight was worth ALL the embarrassing stories combined.

They finish their cake and Sam gives Dean a massive hug goodbye, whispering into his ear, “Happy Birthday, Dean.I love you.”

He’s expecting Sam to immediately head out, but instead his baby brother strolls over to Cas, holding out his hand.His roommate rises to his feet.Without saying a word, the two men shake and nod.In one moment Sam has given his own form of consent, and Cas graciously grins, lifting a folded piece of paper from his pocket to hand to Sam.Once his brother is gone, Dean attempts to get information about what was in the letter, but Cas just kisses Dean’s cheek with a wink.

After breakfast, Dean wanders back to his room, laying the gifts carefully on his desk.Dean uses some tape he bummed from the nurse’s station to tape his goal chart to the wall.Glancing around the space, taking in all the love and effort his friends and family took to give him a truly wonderful birthday hits Dean hard.The light-hearted sensation lifting his spirits is odd to Dean, but he quickly grasps what is happening.This is what happiness, true bliss feels like.

“Thirty’s not so bad,” he mumbles to the walls of his room.Perhaps this can be the marker for Dean’s new lease on life.

That evening, Dean’s playing London’s 2012 Olympics on Xbox with Samandriel after dinner.Cas in his usual spot next to Dean, writing in one of his brother’s journals.Dean’s new medication has been helping him to keep the sorrow in check.He still has bouts, of course, and it’s not keeping the nightmares or the green linoleum away, but it's better.Last night was the first time he stayed up till lights out, watching Friends re-runs with Cas.As Dr. Shurley is quick to remind Dean, this isn’t a race.There is no finish line, but good days like today certainly feel like a win.

He’s kicking Samandriel’s ass at women’s volleyball when Gabriel goes streaking by completely nude, chased closely behind by Gordon.Dean and Samandriel continue their game without comment, the sight of Gabe running sans clothes is nothing new.Cas lifts his head to observe the commotion, but eventually goes back to his writing.Everyone knows Gordon hates to catch the patients naked, so no one expects anything different as the two begin laps around the room.

On Gabriel’s fourth pass, he’s got a remote in his hand that Dean doesn’t recognize.The crazed naked guy starts pushing buttons and music blares from speakers in the rafters of the space.This, of course, causes complete chaos as screams erupt over differing opinions of the song playing.Marv is standing on a chair, preaching about the sins of the flesh, and Ed has taken up doing the tango with his imaginary friend, Harry.

However, what catches Dean’s attention is Castiel’s reaction.His roommate moves to stand in front of him, about three feet away, then starts to sway ever so slightly.The song is one of those club mixes with a heavy beat and nearly erotic build to the music.Slinking closer, Cas stretches out his hand, rolling his fingers and hips in a beautiful come hither call.Dean snatches the hand, allowing his roommate to pull him up as they practically sprint towards their room.

The hallway is blaring the same song as Ezekiel halts their progression.“I do not approve of dancing and that evil music, Castiel.You will need to return to the group.I worry your mind has been corrupted.”

Dean gulps loudly.He has no desire to fight Ezekiel.Gadreel is an awesome brother and can’t help that his other half is an asshole.Suddenly, Dean’s pointing to the open glass doors.“We were just coming to look for you.Gabriel is running naked and Michael commanded you stop him.”

“Of course,” Ezekiel chants, rushing to pursue Gabe.

Cas smacks him in the head, dashing off to their room as Dean snaps out. “What?Got him off our tail.”

Once they are hidden away behind a locked door, Cas grins, pressing his lips against Dean’s.The kiss is soft, nearly gentle as the two men find their bearings with each other.A quick shove to the chest has Dean falling back onto his mattress, Castiel’s mouth reveals a dark smirk as his dance moves take on a whole new level of sexy.The sultry song still bleeds into their room, giving Cas a beat to gyrate those phenomenal hips to as his ass sashays in ways that are permanently burned into Dean’s retinas.

What is truly surprising is that Castiel can fucking dance.Not like a ballerina or the Jazzercise ladies, nope, his roommate could strip professionally with his rolling ass and fuck me eyes.

Cas licks his lips as he twirls in the most sensual manner possible his hands beckoning to Dean seductively.The drop-dead gorgeous man is dripping in graceful movements and mind tingling thrusts.Long fingers glide over Cas’s body, doing all the things that Winchester only dreams about.

Dean’s own hips are grinding into the air on their own accord, searching for his willing partner.It’s only then that he notices that his cock is swelling, heavy in his jeans, looking for someone to release the tension.“Thank God,” he sighs.

Captivating sapphire eyes drop to follow the line of his erection, a wicked smirk falling over Castiel’s mouth.Gradually, keeping the suggestive movement of his body, Cas works his way over to Dean.Once he’s close enough to touch, Dean snatches his shirt, pulling the angel’s ear to his lips.

Dean’s sultry, porn worthy voice moans, “Touch me, Cas.”

Biting his bottom lip, allowing the plump skin to slither out Cas nods climbing onto Dean’s lap.His roommate’s body is grinding against his in time with the music as Cas yanks off Dean’s black t-shirt.Castiel devours Dean’s mouth as if it were his last meal, before the stunning blue-eyed angel sinks to his knees on the floor with a wink.

“Fuckin A, Cas.What ya doing down there?” Dean chokes out.

Slipping his pointer finger into his mouth, Castiel proceeds to show him, with slurping noises that Dean will hear for years to come.The pornographic display has Dean thanking Gabriel for showing Cas those naughty DVD’s.Obviously his angel learned a thing or two.

He has completely lost the ability to speak, so he nods his consent.

There is nothing in this world that is sexier than the sight before him.Dean has to focus on his breathing to keep from having a heart attack.Castiel unbuckles his belt and jeans, sliding them, along with his boxers, down to his ankles.Pushing Dean’s limbs around like a rag doll, Cas removes Dean’s shoes and remaining clothes until he’s nothing but skin for Cas to feast his eyes upon.And oh does the angel do just that; his eyes are raking over Dean’s flesh, taking in everything like he’s some kind of prize.

Dean goes to jack himself off a couple of times to get things started when Cas smacks his hands away.The stare Castiel gives him is extremely clear, only Cas will be touching his cock tonight.

“I’m all yours,” Dean whispers into the silence, a predatory grin flashing over Cas’s pearly whites.

The tips of his friend’s fingers trace over the oak tree tattoo on Dean’s torso, putting every line to memory.Like in his previous explorations, Cas pays particular attention to the empty hole in the center, placing a kiss to it.Dean’s mind betrays him, conjuring up an image of a yellow primrose filling up the space along with C A S swirling within the petals.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Cas turns his attention to Dean’s dick, who finally decided to join the party.Castiel uses feather light strokes at first, teasing Dean’s member to get him impossibly harder and leaking, almost to the point of painful.Due to his magical abilities, Cas suddenly has the jar of Vaseline at his side.He swipes a pinch to slick the path of his hand, then grips the cock tighter, pumping it furiously.Dean’s about to tell him that he’s going too fast when Cas’s tongue licks over the head, then it hastily evolves into a vacuum of moist bliss. Dean is totally lost to the delicious sensation.

This may be Castiel’s first time giving head, but damn he’s a natural.

Dean wishes he could say the glorious blowjob lasted forever, but in reality, the second his eyes opened and he got one look of Castiel’s mouth wrapped tightly around his cock with the most hardcore porn stare Dean’s ever seen.Yeah, two seconds later, he’s shooting his load down Cas’s throat and whining like a two-dollar whore.

Gasping for oxygen, Dean exclaims, “Fuck, Cas, you really will be the death of me.”

That bastard’s only response is to smile as a trickle of cum drips off his chin.If this is how Dean’s going to die, then maybe there is a God after all.

****

A few days later, Dean is punched with a startling realization.Today is his one-month anniversary at the hospital; one down and only seven to go.However, the thought gives Dean a cold shiver.The time seems so short, and he can’t imagine leaving Cas.

He’s standing in his room, staring at his birthday gift from Castiel.No matter what, he’s going to cross off all six boxes before checkout time at the looney bin, and he will add another objective to the pile.Find a way to bring Cas with him, eventually.

A tap to his shoulder rips Dean from his thoughts, he swivels to face his roommate.Cas is already dressed in his winter attire; time to head outside with his angel.

The air bites as a chilly wind whips by Dean.He zips the heavy black coat tighter around his neck, guiding Castiel’s hand into his as they meander through the sleeping gardens.He can make out several flower beds, but looking to his roommate, he sees those blue eyes are zeroing in on one specific spot.Cas halts in front of an oval space further towards the side fence.Kneeling down, his roommate points to his arm, then at the frozen ground.

Joining his friend, Dean glances over the barren dirt.“This is where the cosmos flowers will bloom?”

A wondrous grin spreads over Castiel’s face as he bounces his head in reply.Dean can’t help tilting forward to kiss his supple lips.He hums through the chaste touch.

“I can’t wait to see them,” he comments, pulling back as both men stand.

Castiel gestures towards a bench not too far off the path.Leaving their hands connected Dean follows Cas’s request.Once they are cuddled together watching the others play in the snow, Dean whispers into his friend’s ear, “We should find a place to plant some yellow primroses.”

His roommate glances back at him, winking.Dean’s easing into the idea of the eternal love flower.It’s then that he notices the workers fixing the gate.They have finished the backside and are replacing the section closest to the employee parking lot.The guard from 6th is not one Dean recognizes, but that’s not unusual.What’s weird is that today there is a girl on the crew, and she’s flirting with the chaperone.All the workers are required to wear bright yellow jackets to identify them from the guards, staff, and patients.Something about her is oddly familiar.

Gabriel jogs up to them, huffing, “Hey Romeo and Romeo, can you take, like, thirty minutes from your epic love story to play soccer?”

“Not in the mood today, Gabe,” Dean responds while Cas points to him agreeing.

“PLEASE!With Castiel awake, we can play five on five with Frank as ref,” Gabriel begs, his hands clasped together, “If you come play, I will give you the digits to Zachariah’s Visa card.”

Dean laughs out loud, “Why would I want that? Not planning on getting tossed in jail for credit card fraud.”

“No, it’s the card he uses for our shit and never pays attention to the statement.You could use it to buy gay porn.You know, watch it as forep –“

“Shut up, Gabe,” Dean shouts, then looks at Cas.The guy’s eyebrow is raised in interest.A little extra education before practical experience could be useful.Returning his gaze to Gabriel, “Fine, but give us a couple minutes.”

“Sure thing.Have five minutes of your long, uncomfortable staring, and then meet us over at the field.”Gabriel dashes off yelling, “We are on, Benny!I will end you, motherfucker.”

Benny’s reply drifts over on the wind, “Didn’t you fuck your own mother?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean spots the bright yellow jacket of a male crew worker heading in their general direction, the hard hat blocking a good view of his face.He should just ignore it, the dude might be heading to take a piss; yet, the hairs on his neck are standing up.Dean learned a long time ago to never discount his spidey senses.The stranger is ten feet from them when he hears it, a low rumbling that could only come from a 1967 Impala.

Going completely on raw instincts, Dean shoves Cas to the snow, pivoting to peer over his shoulder.Sure enough, his Baby is pulling up to the opening from the construction in the fence.Shit!The chick is tazing the unsuspecting guard.A split second later, the man is on him, his hand swinging up into the air.Dean identifies the brass knuckles on his father’s right hand.

Someone from behind him snatches his jacket, yanking Dean away from the blow that would no doubt render him unconscious.He still takes a hit that cracks open his brow, causing blood to gush over his eye, blinding him.

“Don’t come near me!”Dean screams with all his might.“Go to fucking hell, Dad!”He’s kicking out into the open air in hopes of keeping his captors the hell away.He’s shocked nobody’s jumped him.That’s when he hears a body hitting the ground.Terror shoots through Dean, if his dad lays one hand on Cas, he will kill him.Rolling his head to the side, he sees a sight to behold.Dean can’t help but laugh as his yoga master roommate sits atop his father, beating the crap out John with bare fists.Castiel is one badass.

Suddenly, the world is tilting in odd directions, spinning round and round.Dean desperately wants to help Cas, but right now, all his strength is taken just keeping him upright and not throwing up.More shouts can be heard as a slew of people approach, but Dean will swear on his life that in between wild strikes to John’s face, Castiel growls possessively, “MINE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG HUGS FOR ALL!!  
> Comments, questions and concerns are always encouraged and make me smile.
> 
> XOXO - Angie


	15. Love is not a victory march

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE shout out to MoniJune for jumping in to be my editor. Thank you so much for making my words pretty and readable. : )
> 
> Song at the end is “Hallelujah” by Rufus Wainwright

* * *

 

 

The throbbing of Dean’s head intensifies as people whirl around him, yelling. He can’t focus on anything except the glint in his father’s eyes as he threw the first punch. Dean’s chest tightens as his fingers dig into the frozen snow, allowing the cold to begin the numbing. Wanting to paralyze his brain before it can process the horrors of the last few seconds, Dean drops his face to the ground.

His head never touches the chilly white blanket. Familiar hands are pulling him back from the brink of despair. It all goes still the moment raging blue sapphires slide into his gaze. Cas wipes the blood from Dean’s face, his fingers turning red from the action; although it’s also likely they were already a mess from beating the shit out of his dad. The memory of Castiel protecting him, Jesus, the fact that his friend was forced to keep his own father from possibly killing him swirls in his mind, making his stomach twist with nausea.  

His roommate’s hands cup his chin gently as Cas’s thumb strokes Dean’s cheek. The caress is soothing, and Dean discovers himself purring in response. His angel tilts over, placing a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, careful of the open wound.

“I’m okay, Cas,” Dean offers the defeated lie.

Several guards appear, handcuffing the offenders. Dean turns his head to watch, and Cas moves to block his view. Shaking his head, his friend kisses him. Maybe Cas is right? Dean doesn’t need to see his dad carted off for the attempted kidnapping and assault of his own son. Closing his eyes, Dean rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder, relishing the way his friend embraces him tightly.

“I…” Dean gasps for air as tears form, attempting to spill, “I …” he’s the one who speaks, who always has the words, but in this moment, he remains silent. Cas squeezes him, implying that no matter what, he’s not alone.

He’s not sure how long they sit holding each other in the snow, but Dean definitely notices the wet slush leaking in through his jeans; yet neither of them moves an inch because, in just one month, they have become a safe haven for each other. Dean slips his fingers into the fabric of Cas’s coat, fisting the material firmly.

“Don’t leave me,” Dean whispers into Cas’s neck. Dark raven hair shakes side to side, revealing Castiel’s unspoken answer: never.

Without warning, the two men are being torn apart, the bright sun blinding Dean as he opens his eyes, perplexed by the manhandling. Ruby 2.0 is shouting out his injuries and asking him questions about his name, date, and why the fuck does she need to know who the president is?

A broken cry yanks Dean from his damage-induced haze. Dean glances over as Gordon and Cole are fighting to keep Cas under control. The shattered screams erupting from his normally silent friend are agonizing to hear. Castiel just wants to be near him, to comfort his friend, and know that Dean is safe. Why can’t they see that?

“Let him go!” Dean shouts, waving his hand wildly at Cas. “He will calm down if you let him sit by me.”

“Dean, Castiel needs to return to the hall with everybody else,” Ruby the second explains.

Scanning the area, it suddenly dawns on Dean that he and Cas are the only patients left in the yard. The others must have been escorted up while they were huddled together.

Grabbing her hand, Dean implores to the nurse, “He’s scared.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to go to the infirmary for an X-ray. Castiel must go back with the others. Sorry, Dean, but that’s the rules, and today we have to be by the book or your brother is going to sue our asses.”

“What? Sam won’t care.” Dean’s sure of it, but sits helplessly as Castiel kicks and bites the orderlies, desperate to get back to his previous perch. The urge to console his blue-eyed angel tugs at Dean to the point his chest physically hurts. Breaking from the pressure, Dean attempts to crawl towards Cas.

His roommate goes feral battling the men, reaching out one hand. Castiel shocks everyone by shrieking one name, “Dean!” Then Ruby 1.0 slams a needle into Cas’s arm, sending the frightened man to sleep.

Dean goes motionless as he observes his best friend’s body being slung on a gurney and pushed back into the hospital.

The nurse turns to face him, holding up a second injection, “Are you going to be good, Dean?”

“Yes,” he answers stumbling to his feet.

Ruby the second escorts Dean through the first floor to a door he’s never seen before. She swipes her badge and places a thumb to the keypad before the thick steel door swings open. Inside, the space reminds Dean of a mini Emergency Room with beeping machines, white gurneys, and green curtains to separate the beds.

“Lie down here, Dean.” Ruby points to an empty gurney, “The doctor will be in soon. He’s kind of a douche bag, so we only bring y’all down when it’s absolutely necessary.”

A stocky looking guy with a long, white lab coat steps next to Dean’s bed. “Is this the assault victim?”

“Yes, Dr. Styne,” Ruby replies.

The doctor barely acknowledges Dean as he goes through the motions of examining his forehead. Yep, total asshole. “Nurse Masters, I need the wound cleaned before I can see anything.”

Dr. Styne disappears behind the green curtain, replaced by Meg from the gym. She’s dressed in an old-school, white nurse’s uniform with one of those little white hats.

Meg taps Ruby on the shoulder, “You can head back. I’ve got him.”

“See ya later, Dean, and behave,” Ruby quips as she scampers out of the infirmary.

“Nurse? I thought you were a physical therapist?” Dean inquires as Meg takes to cleaning up his face.

“Both, actually; I was a double major in college. A lot of people don’t get along with Dr. Styne, so we rotate for the privilege,” she states, heavy sarcasm on the last word.

He glances down at her attire, “And the outfit?”

“Another Styne rule. He prefers his nurses to be female and look professional.” Meg pauses to roll her eyes, puffing out, “Sexist jerk.”

Two hours later, Dean’s had every x-ray imaginable, a blissful dose of painkillers, and five more stitches to add to his collection. Styne didn’t speak to Dean once. The douche bag only grumbled notes and orders to Meg and was gone the second the last stitch was in place, leaving the nurse to finish up.

Dean grabs her hand as she lifts the bandage, “I need to get back to Cas.”

“Don’t worry, the meds they gave him will keep Cassie under for another hour at least, and I’m sure he’s in the quiet room. From what I heard, he was ready to take down an army for you.”

Blushing brightly, Dean releases her, “Maybe. He’s a good friend.”

“Friend? Sure. How’s my Clarence doing?” Meg asks, patting down a Band-Aid over his brow.

Dean clamps down the jealousy rising in his chest. “You two have an interesting relationship. He seems more than just a patient.”

Meg pulls over a stool to sit on so they are eye to eye. “Look, when this place opened, the brothers were the first patients, part of the deal when Zachariah sold the land. I was Castiel’s physical therapist from the start, and back then, he was a complete mess. He would go catatonic the second anyone other than his brothers touched him. Shurley had me partner with him to work on touch therapy since his abusers were male.”

“What kind of touch?” Dean growls.

“Slow your roll, handsome, I am not his flavor. Clarence prefers an outie to an innie, if you know what I mean?” She points to her groin. “Which made the touch purely platonic and therapeutic. All I’m saying is, be careful.”

Her eyes are searching his, pleading for Dean to understand. It doesn’t take long until he whispers his reply, “You like him, like, really like him.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Meg shrugs, snatching a covered tray from the counter. “Like I said, I’m not his type, and he obviously prefers your musky aroma.” She scrunches up her nose.

Dean wants to hate her, but the hurt in her expression stops him cold. She has accepted her fate but is willing to help give Cas something better. Perhaps she can be the ally he needs to make his final goal work. She places the tray next to him, revealing a PB&J with carrot sticks.

“You missed dinner, so Ellen sent over a tray.” She scoots away, giving him room to process everything and munch on his sandwich. Through stuffed cheeks, Dean mutters, “Can I ask you some questions that may not be appropriate for staff to answer?”

“I have a raging crush on my patient. Rules are clearly not my thing.”

Chewing a couple of carrots, Dean thinks about what he wants to ask. Finally, he speaks, “I want to be with him. You know, go all the way, but how do I get over his fears of removing his clothes in front of me?”

“Well,” Meg spins on her stool while crossing her arms, “His fear isn’t taking off his clothes, it’s you seeing the marks from years and years of abuse. Maybe you could meet him halfway.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean huffs.

Meg holds up her finger, then opens a few drawers and cabinets searching for something specific. A few minutes later she shouts, “Bingo!”

Turning back to Dean, she passes him two white cotton blindfolds. He stares at the fabric, immediately understanding their use. “If his anxiety comes from sight and not touch, then I take away my sight and meet him in the middle.”

“Exactly, big boy. We use those for patients who stay overnight, because the lights must remain on for safety reasons. Why don’t you find a better use for them?”

“Thanks,” Dean states genuinely, placing the blindfolds in his back pocket. No reason to leave them out for all to see. “The staff here seems kind of lenient about my relationship with Cas.”

“Those poor kids lived in their own nightmare for decades. Castiel was the more vocal rebel of the group, and he paid the price.”

Dean silently nods, taking a sip from his water and remembering the story of Hael and the sight of OBEY burned into his friend’s flesh.

Meg inhales deeply, “You are the first person Castiel has ever shown any interest in. There is something about you that connects with Clarence. I don’t think there is a single person in this place that wants to stand in the way of that beautiful boy’s happily ever after.” She cocks a whimsical eyebrow, “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Dean sits up straighter, trying to show how serious he is about the next question. “Do… how…” God, finding the words today are pure torture. “When I leave here, I want Cas to come with me. Do you think that’s even possible?”

“I truly hope so.”

“How can I make it happen?” He moves closer, glaring into her whiskey-stained eyes.

Placing her perfectly manicured nails on his thigh, she responds softly, “Let yourself fall, Dean. Be the friend, the lover, and the anchor that helps him find what he’s always been searching for.”

“What’s that?”

“Peace.”

****

Meg walks him up to the floor, but once the elevator doors open, Cole is standing, waiting on him.

“Catch ya later, Winchester.” Meg waves as he exits the lift. “Let me know how everything goes.”

“Shut up, Meg,” he playfully shouts, following Cole through the locked doors.

Once the two men are back on the hall, Dean darts to his room but finds it empty. He’s turning to rush out when Gabriel saunters in behind him. “Sorry about the psycho killer dad, buddy.”

“It’s fine, Gabe. Where’s Cas?”

“Sleeping in the quiet room last time I checked. The rules are, he has to wake up and behave for an hour, then he gets out.”

“I’m aware.” Dean recalls New Year’s Eve and his lovely bondage session.

Gabriel trails behind him as Dean stomps over to the quiet room door. The room has a 1-foot by 1-foot square window so the staff can watch the occupants. Peeking in, Dean sees his roommate curled up in the center of the cushioned floor, resting tranquilly.

“See? Sleeping Beauty’s spell hasn’t been lifted yet,” Gabriel jests as he squats down by the door.

Without a second thought, Dean takes the spot next to him, Dean’s back pressed against the door. It’s silly that being closer to Cas actually helps the tightening in his chest to loosen. Neither man talks, but he does appreciate the company. Dean can’t leave Cas, not now, not ever.

Ruby 1.0 walks by, chiding, “If you get anymore stitches, Dean, we will have to start calling you Frankenstein.”

“Kiss my ass, Ruby,” Dean calls out with a choice finger raised.

The nurse scrutinizes Cas through the small window. “Promises, promises, Winchester.” She leans against the wall, sighing, "Okay it’s 9:30 p.m. Missouri will be taking over in a few. I’d tell you to head back to your rooms, but that would be ridiculous, correct?”

“I’m not leaving until Cas does,” Dean declares crossing his arms.

Gabriel stands, smiling brightly, “Meh, Castiel’s in good hands. I’ll see ya in the morning, Dean.”

“Sure thing.”

The men wander in and out of the bathroom and over to the nurse’s station for nightly meds. Dean’s are once a day at lunch, so he doesn’t move. He just watches the ebb and flow of the hall in their nightly routines. He observes as Gabriel seeks out all of his brothers, giving them each a hug goodnight. Damn, that guy really is the glue that keeps their family going.

Missouri drops a pillow next to him, announcing, “Don’t want that pretty bottom to go flat.”

Chuckling, Dean tucks it under him, canting back towards the door. At some point he must have closed his eyes, because they are shut when he hears a faint knocking sound coming from behind him. Dean’s eyes fly open as he jumps up so he can peer into the rubber room. Bright blue eyes are shining back at him, along with a heartfelt smile.

“Cas, you’re up!” Dean shouts through the heavy glass.

He lifts his hand so the palm is against the window as Castiel mimics his movements. Dean’s grinning so brightly his mouth hurts. He sighs deeply, “Cas.”

Nurse Mosely strolls over from the nurse’s station, jangling her keys. “Move back, loverboy, so I can let the pretty one out.”

“I thought you had to wait an hour?” Dean queries as Missouri glances in on Cas.

“Castiel,” she waits until his roommate’s attention is on her, “you gonna beat up Dean?”

A horrific look bleeds over Cas’s face as he shakes his head violently.

“See, not a threat. No reason to keep you two from getting some… sleep.” Missouri winks as she unlocks the quiet room door.

The employees here are probably as certifiable as the patients, but Dean wouldn’t want it any other way. The door swings open, and Dean’s arms are suddenly full of his favorite roommate.

“To your room, boys,” the nurse shoos them. “And whatever you do, mind Dean’s injuries. You understand?”

Cas turns back, giving Missouri a stern look. Obviously he finds the mere question insulting.

Finally, after the day from hell, Dean is holding Castiel in their room as Missouri locks them in for the night.

Dean feels all the terrors trickle away when in the presence of his personal angel, the man who Dean will always see as his savior in so many ways. A song comes to him and he finds himself swaying to the tune that is only in his mind. Cas just follows along, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder, enjoying the comfort settling between them.

Deciding what the hell, Dean’s all in, he starts to sing:

_“I’ve heard there was a secret chord, That David played and it pleased the Lord_

_But you don’t really care for music, do you? It goes like this… the fourth… the fifth_

_The minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah”_

Dean sweeps his lips over Cas’s forehead as he continues.

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah”_

_“Your faith was strong but you needed proof, His beauty and the moonlight overthrew you_

_He tied you to a kitchen chair, He broke your throne, He cut your hair_

_And from your lips he drew the Hallelujah.”_

Gradually the two men are twirling around the room, their arms still wrapped around each other. Dean’s voice grows in volume, along with his confidence, the smile on Castiel’s face urging him on.

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah”_

_“Maybe I have been here before, I know this room, I’ve walked this floor_

_I used to live alone before I knew you, I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch_

_Love is not a victory march, It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah”_

His voice cracks on the last line, but Cas hugs him tighter. Life on the 4th floor has taught him many things, but above all, just because someone is cold and broken, doesn’t make them any less beautiful. He spins his friend as he keeps belting out the song.

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah”_

_“There was a time you let me know, What’s real and going on below_

_But now you never show it to me, do you? And remember when I moved in you?_

_The holy dark was moving too, And every breath we drew was Hallelujah”_

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah”_

With every ‘Hallelujah’, Dean whirls Cas around and around under his arm until the other man is dizzy and giggling wildly. Cas has no intention of halting as he melts into Dean’s form, moving his hips. Dean is perfectly happy to let Cas have the lead.

_“Maybe there’s a God above, And all I ever learned from love_

_Was how to shoot at someone, Who outdrew you_

_And it’s not somebody who’s seen the light…_

_It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah”_

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah”_

Freezing in his spot, Dean cups Cas’s chin with his palms, staring intensely into those deep blue sea irises. He speaks the next part to put the proper emphasis on what he’s trying to say to the man before him.

“And it’s not somebody who’s seen the light…

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Love is not a victory march, It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah”

Slanting forward, Castiel gives his reply in a gentle kiss. Dean opens his mouth, gliding his tongue next to Cas’s. With each slight breath, Dean repeats;

“ _Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah”_

Listening to Meg’s advice, Dean simply permits himself to fall, the promise of a safe landing being recited with each Hallelujah. This is real, this is love, and this is forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments and questions are always welcomed.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	16. I already know

* * *

 

Turning to the next page, Dean nuzzles his nose into the chaotic mess of hair tickling his chin. They are passing the lazy afternoon snuggled up together on Dean’s bed; well, lately it’s become _their_ bed. Cas’s side only getting used when Mr. Comatose visits. Dean has a Castiel-shaped blanket draped over his torso, keeping him warm. His new copy of "Cat’s Cradle" is held in one hand, while the other mindlessly drags his fingertips up and down Cas’s spine.

A soft sigh leaves Dean’s lips as the sensation of total contentment washes over him.

His roommate furiously writes into the leather journal they share, the bound papers lying to the right of Dean’s ear. Cas is spread over him, his head slightly off to the right so he can write in the journal. Dean learned his lesson about peeking before Cas was ready; being ignored for an entire day nearly killed him. Instead, keeping his eyes on the great works of Vonnegut is an easy choice.

Cas pauses his pen, lifting those delicious pink lips to Dean’s and spending several minutes letting their tongues idly roam. With a saucy wink, his friend refocuses on his entry, a wide, blissful grin left on his face. A very tiny voice from the furthest corner of Dean’s mind whispers, "I love you, Cas." He’s been tiptoeing on the edge of accepting this as fact, but Winchester can’t deny it anymore. He may have been falling for his blue-eyed angel for quite some time; but let’s be real, Dean Winchester has hit the love wall hard and stuck like glue with zero desire to run away.

Which surprises the shit out of Dean because if he could go back merely a year and ask himself could he be happy in love with a man? His reaction would have been one massive, gay freak out. Deny, deny, deny has always been the Winchester’s way with anything even borderline uncomfortable or against his father’s wishes. Yet now, in this place surrounded by caregivers who simply want their charges to be better versions of themselves, encouraging whatever that definition may be, Dean can suddenly breathe.

The other patients have so much crap on their own plates that Dean’s sexuality is not even a blip on the radar. Well, obviously Cas’s brothers have an opinion, but again, big shocker! They want Castiel to be happy; period. His gorgeous angel’s intentions are crystal clear; he desires the ex-bounty hunter, not as a plaything, but a permanent fixture in his life.

The big question that has been plaguing Dean for days, ever since he and Cas intimately danced to his lousy singing… How do you tell someone you are falling in love with them when they can’t say it back?

Not having those three words returned seems cruel. The various scenarios are constantly streaming in Dean’s waking thoughts. If he says it out loud to Castiel’s face, what will happen? Will Cas just nod his head with a thumbs up? Or better yet, flee from the room, sending in Gabriel and Gadreel to beat the shit out of him? Another option is a journal letter, using an entire page to express his devotion to the man he has known for about six weeks. Umm… that’s a whopping NO! Words are not Dean’s strong suit. In the end he will probably scribble, _I love you_ on a torn piece of paper and toss towards Cas before locking himself in the quiet room.

God, he is pathetic. Meg told him to fall, and in doing so, he gets to keep Cas forever. Well, the bitch should have mentioned how to land in her instructions. Today is definitely not going to be the day he throws caution to the wind and announces his damn feelings, so instead Dean slips back into the story before him.

After a bit, Dean glances at the alarm clock on his desk, 2:15 p.m. Sam should arrive around 3 for their brotherly conference. It’s been several days since he was attacked by John Winchester, and Dean just wants to move on and forget, but Shurley and Sam are bound and determined that he process the event and figure out how he feels. Damn it, another hour spent harping on Dean’s emotional damage from their dad. Fun times will not be had by all.

Sam has called him every day to chat. Seriously, Dean loves his brother, but yesterday they spent twenty minutes discussing the chair in Sam’s office. Whether it’s causing his back issues, maybe he should get a new one, does it need to be leather? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! It’s a God damned chair. You sit your ass in it, end of discussion.

He completely understands his brother not visiting after the kidnapping thing. Being stuck in St. Paul with a new case means Sam can’t get away. Jess has been having some trouble with the pregnancy, which is taking up all Sam’s free time after work. Dean gets this. It’s not rocket science, but his overdosing-on-estrogen baby brother won’t stop. He has to make sure, every stupid day, that Dean understands he is important.

A calming hand grabs his shoulder, massaging it tenderly, ripping Dean from the sibling tirade occupying his mind. He tilts over, kissing the top of Cas’s ear, grumbling, “Sorry, I’ll unclench.”

Castiel bounces his head, his gaze still on the page. His roommate’s palm caresses down his arm and back up again, soothing Dean’s bubbling anxiety masked behind concern over Sam’s smothering.

That is where Garth finds him an hour later. The counselor is all smiles as he bounds in. “Hey, Dean. Your brother is waiting for you in Shurley’s office. Can I walk you down?”

“Sure,” Dean responds suspiciously. One of the nurses or orderlies usually escorts him to his psychiatrist.

Planting a smacking kiss to Cas’s cheek, the two men disentangle themselves. Once upright, Dean rambles over to his desk, throwing his book on top. He grins when he sees the goal chart, one huge blue X over the two men dancing. That is something he and Cas should definitely do again.

Trailing behind Garth, they wander out to the elevator area, delayed by the lift’s lack of movement. The counselor turns to him. “I’ll come get you when your session is over. Feel free to discuss anything that bothers you.”

“What’s going to bother me?” Dean queries as he climbs into the steel box.

“Sam wants to hash out everything that’s going on with your dad.”

The ride down is quiet and uneventful, but his counselor keeps picking at his shirt, his nails, anything to not look directly at Dean. He was informed yesterday that this session would be about their father. In fact, it was Garth who told him in the first place. When the counselor gave him the news about the visit, there was no nervous energy like there is now. What changed over the course of one night?

Dean pivots to face the other man as the doors swish open. “What aren’t you telling me, Garth?”

Trailing behind the other man, Dean’s face scrunches in confusion until they reach the main lobby.   Garth fidgets with an obvious secret he shouldn’t reveal. “Your brother isn’t sure about you remaining on the 4th floor. He’s worried that Cas might impede your recovery.”

“What the hell, Garth?” Dean spins in a circle, his stomach twisting in knots. He doesn’t even give the counselor a chance to answer. Picking up the pace, Dean charges towards Shurley’s door, tossing it open yelling. “You can’t take Cas away!”

“Shit, Dean!” Sam races to meet him in the middle of the room. “I feel it would be beneficial for you to focus on yourself for a while and not do the thing you always do.”

“And what is that, Sammy?” Dean’s puffing up his chest, getting ready for battle. A little swirl of panic rising with the anger.

Sam rubs his face aggressively, huffing. “You have this unhealthy need to put yourself second. Damn it, you did it with me until I pushed you away, and then you started up with Dad. It’s like you are physically incapable of just putting yourself first.”

Using his finger, Dean taps harshly on Sam’s shoulder. “He’s important, Sammy.”

Hazel eyes meet Dean’s gaze. The sorrow coming from his brother forces Dean to clamp down a tad as Sam whispers, “You need to be more significant, Dean. I don’t want Cas to pull you down into that Heavenly nightmare he crawled out of. I read the news articles and court transcripts of the shit Castiel lived through. It’s too much for you, Dean. I’m thinking a clean break with a new floor would be best.”

Dean’s blood pounds so loudly in his head he’s not sure he heard Sam correctly. Or maybe he just wants to believe that his brother was actually happy for him. “You’re wrong. I thought you were cool with me and Cas.”

“I’m not opposed to it, but things seem to be getting serious fast. Dean, please, I’ve seen the way you fawn all over him. You’re using him as another crutch since you can’t get drugs or alcohol here. That’s not fair to either of you. I’m sure Castiel enjoys the attention-”

“You are wrong!” Dean shouts, gesturing wildly. “I used booze to dull the pain. So when all the shit from our childhood came at me full force I wouldn’t feel it. Deaden everything, that way the agonizing memories of that fucking kitchen wouldn’t drag me down with her.”

Recalling that Dr. Shurley is sitting right behind his desk, Dean steps toward the psychiatrist. “Tell him that I’m not hiding, I’m not numbing, that I’m facing all this shit sober and head-on because Cas is with me.”

The doctor cants forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “Sam, I told you before this meeting began that I do not see how Dean’s budding relationship with Castiel is any kind of burden on him. In fact, the two have found a way to push each other to be better; however, I understand your concerns. How can we find a compromise that helps everyone to move forward?”

“Look at me, Sam,” Dean implores, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Castiel does put me first. He holds me when the nightmares are bad; he is helping me study for my GED, and he makes me smile. We have that science word where the two things work together?”

His brother shoots him a perplexed squint as Dr. Shurley supplies, “Symbiosis.”

“YES! That’s the word. Cas and I have this symbiosis to encouraging and supporting each other. We take turns, and honestly, Sam, it helps to not feel alone.”

“But you aren’t alone, Dean,” Sam interjects, “You have me.”

Shit! Suddenly he understands where his baby brother is coming from. Giving Sam a tight brotherly hug, he concedes, “Sam, I know I do. I love you, buddy.” Stepping back, allowing them to see each other better, “But I can have both. You have Jess; doesn’t make you love me any less, right?”

“You deserve better, Dean.” Sam’s words seem kind, but it’s like a slap to his face. “He’s just going to hold you back.”

Cas is fucking fantastic. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it's Dean who falls short. The problem lies in the fact that Sam can’t see past his roommate’s mental health issues to the beautiful human being that lifts Dean’s spirits and pushes him to be awesome. “Sam. Castiel isn’t this weight on my shoulders shoving me down to the ground. He’s the angel who raised me from hell and showed me how good life can be. We are getting better, not by relying on each other like a crutch, but cheering each other to go higher and higher with our expectations. Can’t you see it?”

“I just want you to see how a permanent life with someone like Castiel will affect your life.” Sam waves at the couch and Dean follows along, facing his brother as Sam adds, “You will always have to take care of him.”

“You don’t take care of Jess when she needs it?”

Sam shakes his head, wringing his hands, “There’s no chance of children with him, Dean.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean pouts, “I have a pretty accurate understanding of biology, even for a high school dropout. Yes, Sam, two dudes can’t have a baby.”

“No, you misunderstand me. If you want to be with a man, I will completely support your choice, but no judge is going to let you and Castiel adopt a child. Do you really want a future that can never include kids?”

The thought smacks him harshly; his next inhale stutters. Sam’s not wrong. Two guys with Dean and Castiel’s history will never have children. He lounges back into the couch cushions, really brewing over the question. A tiny smile tugs at his lips as Dean imagines his life with Cas, growing old together in a quiet little house near the river, curled up on a porch swing while snow tumbles from the sky, the scent of honey and primrose flowers filling his nostrils for eternity.

“Yes, Sam, I really do.” Dean scratches his brother’s head, mussing up his pretty, boy band hair. “I’ve already raised my kid. Did a fairly good job, so I’m good.”

“Dean.” Sam’s hazel eyes go glassy as he hiccups. “This amazing life that I have is all because of you. Please, let me give you the same chance for happiness.”

Grabbing those monstrous shoulders, Dean dives in for another hug. God, next he will be braiding Sam’s hair and watching musicals. “Being here, rooming with Cas, that’s my chance at happily ever after. You made that possible.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam mutters as they separate, both men wiping away tears. “Perhaps your time spent with Castiel is not a bad thing.”

Bursting out laughing at the absurd idea that Sam was worried about him, Dean chortles “Of course not, dude, I’m totally in love with him.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows lifting to the sky.

Dr. Shurley isn’t much better as he spurts a sip of coffee all over his desk. “Shit!” The psychiatrist grabs a few tissues, mopping up the mess. “I was not expecting that.”

“It’s not official,” Dean scoffs, his face so red he feels warmer. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

“Let’s save that for another session,” Shurley intercedes, “Sam, don’t you have some news about John?”

Sam shakes off Dean’s revelation, refocusing on the agenda for the meeting. “Dad’s lawyer is requesting a trial, stating that the facts on file are inaccurate, and Dad never attacked you. He broke the restraining order, but that’s the only thing he will cop to.”

“What the fuck? How is that even possible? Everyone saw him hit me.” Dean’s voice trembles slightly. A trial sounds terrifying.

“The only witnesses to the actual blow were patients. It appears all the staff and guards were distracted at the exact same time. It’s suspicious, but leaves just enough wiggle room for a trial to be allowed.”

“So the witnesses are patients. Ask any of them. Shit, have Cas write it down. Dad did this to me, Sam!” Dean shouts, pointing to the scar evident on his brow.

With an uncomfortable silence building, Sam glances at Dr. Shurley for help. This can’t be good.

Rubbing the scruff on his chin, Shurley bounces nervously in his chair. “That’s the difficult part, Dean. As a committed person in a mental health facility, their ability to be a reliable witness can be called into question. Worst case scenario, you will have to testify, and then I will have to validate your mental capability to do so.”

“I’d have to testify against…” Dean can’t even say it out loud. It’s one thing to stand up to him in the commons and hide behind Garth and the staff, but in a courtroom? His hands quiver from the vision of his father’s eyes boring into him on the stand. “I don’t know if I can.”

Sam’s about to comment when the psychiatrist cuts him off. “I think it would be best to let Dean think about it for a while. He and I can discuss it at his next session, and when things become more formalized, you can come back.”

“Alright, sure.” Sam squeezes Dean’s shoulder with a concerned sad smile. “This could be months away. Nothing to stress about now, but I thought you should know.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean faces Shurley, asking, “Can I go now?”

The doctor nods, rising to open the door. Garth appears, his typical goofy grin cheering Dean up just a little. Dean leaves, waving goodbye to Sam.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Sam calls out. Dean nods his response, shutting the door behind him.

They are halfway down the hall when Garth swivels back, startling Dean. “Are you staying on 4th?”

Garth looks nearly broken at the idea of Dean being transferred. “Yes, I get to stay with Cas too.”

“Awesome,” Garth yanks Dean into a huge bear hug. Damn, it’s like HuggieFest 2016. “I am so happy.”

“Thanks, man.” He pats Garth’s back, then steps back with a cough. “Is everyone outside?”

“Yep, but first I have a letter for you.”

Scrunching his nose up curiously, Dean replies, “Who’s it from?”

“Castiel gave it to me this morning with strict instructions. I was to give it to you after your session with Sam.”

“Then hand it over,” Dean chokes out. He has no idea if the letter is good or bad, and the anticipation sends him flailing over the edge. Once the paper is in his hands, Dean tears open the envelope, reading Cas’s words.

_Dear Dean,_

_I would first like to apologize for assaulting your father. He did deserve it, but that is not the appropriate way to act. I know this, but seeing him strike you so viciously set something off in me. In general I am not a violent man. Having seen the darkness that lives inside of men, I try to avoid such behavior at all cost._

_Yet, in that split second that his hand collided with your stunning face, I saw red. Rage like I have never felt before in my life boiled through my veins. John needed to not only be stopped, but punished for touching my boyfriend. Please, don’t be offended. Gabriel has suggested that you may not take kindly to being defended like a damsel in distress, but I beg to differ. You would have done the same for me. I have no doubt that if Michael wandered into the yard and struck me, you would beat him bloody. Not because I couldn’t do it myself, but the desire to protect runs deeply inside us._

_Actually, I think I take back my apology. I am not sorry I did it._

_You protect the ones you love. Gabriel used to repeat that sentence over and over, the words plaguing his waking mind. He was unable to protect us, especially Hael. It is a regret that will haunt Gabriel till his death._

_I will never feel that kind of agonizing remorse again._

_I protected the one I love._

_And always will,_

_Castiel_

Dean’s brain has one mission: get to Cas, NOW! He races past Garth, throttling down the hall and towards the doors leading out to the yard. When he hits the glass barrier, he beats against it screaming, “I need out!”

“Dean! You need a jacket. Calm down and you can see him after we go upstairs.” Garth attempts rationalizing with the rawness swallowing Dean.

“Please, open it. Please, I don’t care. Just for five minutes. I have to tell him something,” Dean begs, sobs erupting from his throat. He returns to the locked door, yelling, “Please, Garth, let me out!”

“Five minutes,” Garth complies, swiping his card.

Bursting through the doors, Dean takes off at top speed again, the freezing air hitting his lungs like a fucking 2X4. However, even the inability to properly inhale doesn’t keep him from his goal. Dean dashes towards the sleeping gardens, fully aware that his angel will be strolling about, waiting for him.

He shoves past both Rubys as they call out, in unison, “Where’s your jacket, Dean?”

“Later. I need Cas,” he pants, his throat torn between desperation and icy cold weather.

Suddenly, it’s like the clouds part and sunrays fall from heaven, landing on his angel. The sunshine brightens Cas’s hair, giving it a touch of auburn glow. Castiel is sitting next to their favorite flower bed, dragging his fingers over the hibernating plants. Unable to stop, Dean plows into his friend, his lover, his angel, his his his his CAS.

Both men crash onto the ground, snow exploding around them from the disruption. Castiel’s expression full of shock and adoration. A breathtaking smile building across his mouth.

“You love me,” Dean coughs out, his voice ragged from excursion.

Sapphire gems sparkle in the sunlight as Cas nods vigorously.

Dean literally leaps without looking; there is no doubt as he confesses, “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please drop me a comment or question. : )
> 
> XOXO - Angie


	17. Whoa Watermelon

* * *

 

_Hey Cas,_

_Thanks for taking the first step, man. I’m trying not to be a wuss with the whole relationship thing, but God, knowing that you felt the same way took all the pressure off.  Since you used it in your last entry, I’m going to assume that the term boyfriend is cool with you?  Honestly, I haven’t even had a girlfriend since I left high school.  Moving around constantly didn’t leave much room for romance.  A quickie in the Impala is about the extent of my sex life, much less anything even close to a love life._

_You know its February right? Like Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I was wondering if you wanted to have our first lunch date then?  Unless that upsets you or it could be sooner; sooner is awesome._

_Did you know that you’ve said my name? Like out loud for the world to hear._

_Dean_

________

_Dear Dean,_

_I agree, we definitely fall under my definition of boyfriends. Truth be told I’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend.  During my time with the Heavenly Brotherhood we never knew who our brothers and sisters were genetically so dating could be uncomfortable.  Unless you were Gabriel, he really is quite loose in his romantic partner’s selection.  I believe for a time he fancied ripe fruit._

_Yes, I am aware of the current month and the impending holiday. Now that we are "official" I have been told by my brothers that a memorable activity is expected.  Lunch on the 14 th day of February in the Media Room is acceptable for this venture.  I will provide the nourishment if you bring flowers.  Included with this entry is a book on flowers and their meanings.  Please choose wisely._

_It would seem that when my feelings for you are heightened or tested per se I am able to voice my desires. In that specific moment it was a gut wrenching hunger to hold you.  We both know that my ability to speak is not the issue, but a mental block in granting my thoughts sound._

_Tell me about your first love. Did she have a tattoo?_

_Yours evermore,_

_Castiel_

________

_Hey Cas,_

_Fucking Fruit? I’m sorry but that is some juicy gossip that must be explained and in detail. Please, please with whip cream and a cherry on top. I will trade you anything for a story on Gabriel’s love affair with fruit._

_The flower book is kind of daunting but Ruby 1.0 has taken pity on me. She has agreed to chaperone our date and help me find the flowers.  I’m gonna rock your bouquet arrangement world Cas.  Are we going to do gifts?  It’s a tradition that some people follow.  I have no opinion, but I don’t want to be the ass that didn’t give his boyfriend something on Valentine’s Day._

_Oh let me tell you about my first love. Smart, funny, bright shiny smile, gorgeous body that makes me hard just thinking about it, quiet, strong, loving, and oh yeah the best roommate I’ve ever had.  You idiot, Cas, you are my first love, my current love and one day my primrose love.  Did you honestly think there was anyone before you?  Sure, I’ve dated, screwed a bunch of girls and kept my Dad happy in his belief that a true man had ladies pining for him.  Well fuck him and his narrow-minded crap.  No one compares to you, Cas, and no one ever will._

_Don’t worry, your tattoo on my skin will come soon enough._

_By the way, I have this blindfold from Meg, and she gave me some ideas on how to use it._

_Dean_

________

_Dear Dean,_

_Anything for a detailed story on Gabriel’s odd sexual adventures, well this is a pretty foul story so I believe a deal must be struck first. I will give you one delectable fact.  It appears his preference leans towards watermelon.  My offer for the rest of the tall tale is a blow job from you.  Thoughts?_

_I feel honored to be your first love, Dean. It seems appropriate that in turn you are mine, thus we will take this journey together.  Please do not worry about the women that came before me.  Inias was having a cheeky moment this morning when he reminded me that, “Your virgin ass is mine, Winchester.”  Personally I think he stole it from Gabriel, but he’s younger so I must placate him sometimes._

_A gift exchange for Valentine’s Day sounds like an excellent idea. Yes, I will buy you a present to express my love for everything Dean._

_I am baffled by the blindfold. When I asked Gabriel about the uses between romantic partners his explanation was quite elaborate.  Not entirely sure we are to the point of spanking and me calling you Daddy.  I am not opposed, but it seems a tad soon._

_We should find a symbol to place on both our bodies, marking our skin together. Seems oddly romantic; any ideas for an image?_

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

________

_Cas!!_

_We have talked about this; you must warn a guy before bringing out visions of me spanking you while you call me Daddy. JESUS, MARY, and fucking JOSEPH!  I almost passed out from all my blood running south.  That was not the idea I had for the blindfold.  But dude, how the hell would you yell Daddy during sex?  Don’t tease me man that’s just rude._

_Gabriel and a watermelon! Oh my God I must hear this story.  I am totally willing to blow you, but I’m just warning you now I could totally suck at it.  All I can do is drop down and try, and whether or not you get off will remain a mystery for now.  My virginal backside is happily owned by one Castiel, Angel of Thursday. ; )_

_Matching tattoos? Sounds really girly. I’m totally on board but nothing with rainbows or unicorns._

_I guess we are doing this now soooooo,_

_I love you too,_

_Dean_

________

_Dear Dean,_

_I believe the entire purpose of fellatio is sucking the head of my cock. Therefore, if you suck at it I will be eternally grateful.  It is true that I would not be able to call for my Daddy, however, I could make a lovely sign with silver glitter lifting it up at opportune moments.  Would that be sufficient?_

_Why in heaven's name would we choose a unicorn for our matching tattoos? I don’t think you understand the significance.  We should really think this through because I have no interest in permanently placing a magical creature on my rear._

_It has come to my attention that taking Gabriel’s suggestions for the blindfold at face value might have been ill-advised. Can you please give me some possible uses in your eyes?_

_A deal has been struck then and in my next letter I will wield the story of Gabriel's enjoyment of fruit with a squishy center. A love story that left poor Samandriel unable to see watermelon without gagging._

_In closing, I have a question that has been plaguing me for some time. Why was it so important that your father would risk killing you in order to free you from our current home?  The strike was harsh, and even with total control of the weapon you could have died.  Why Dean, why?_

_Yes, we are doing this until my last breath._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

________

_Cas, you are my wonderland._

_I think I stopped breathing from laughing so hard. The picture of you draped over my knee blindfolded holding a sign with fucking silver glitter is beyond hysterical and absurdly arousing.  I think we may have created a monster here.  Alright, in plainest English, the idea with the blindfold was simple.  I cover my eyes in order to touch your naked body.  Meg said it would be like a compromise for my desires and your comfort.  That’s what being in a relationship is about, right?  Or not we could toss them and forget the entire thing._

_Excellent, provide me with the naughty fairytale of Gabriel and his Watermelon and in return I will perform oral sex on you at your behest. Hey, my new laptop has a thesaurus, can you tell?  I resonate elegant astuteness, huh?_

_Our matching tat is going on your ass? Way to be classy, Cas._

_My Dad …the man who raised me but in all honesty did a pretty shitty job of it, has many secrets. Some would just be embarrassing, others would probably send him to jail forever.  I have for nearly my entire adult life sat next to the guy and watched all his business deals; those abiding by and those breaking the law.  When he came to see me I think it was a wake-up call for John.  He saw in my defiance and in my ability to tell him no that his control over me had vanished.  Actually, by the time he attacked me in the yard he had no hold over me.  Killing me would have been tragic, but at least the bodies would have remained buried._

_Thank you, Castiel. You saved me in many ways that day.  You saved my life, you saved my soul, and most of all you saved my heart.  Well, stole my heart is probably more accurate.  I have always been the one caring for others, putting their needs before mine.  You don’t allow me to do that.  In that moment you put yourself in danger to help me.  Thank you._

_Your last breath will only happen seconds before mine._

_I love you more than Baby,_

_Dean_

________

_Dear Dean,_

_I have included two entries with my turn. This one is more typical for our conversational banter.  The next one is the much anticipated Gabriel’s Adventures in Fruitarianism, A Love Story._

_The visions of your hands touching my naked body are stimulating to both my sexual hunger and my fear of rejection. I appreciate the inclusion of taking away your sight.  You are very kind to find a healthy arrangement for our physical relationship.  Give me some time to settle on the request, and I will let you know.  This is a huge step for me, Dean, and I won’t take it lightly._

_My butt cheek was the original location of our tattoo, yet I am open to suggestions. There is an open spot on my hip that could also be nice.  I picture the size matching the blank oval on your chest.  If this is too presumptuous I completely understand._

_As I learn more and more about John Winchester I like him less and less, and the bar was very low to begin with. You deserve better, Dean.  Goodness we both do.  I am reminded of a song that often repeats in my mind.  Let’s take our sad song and make it better.  Together I think all things are possible, Dean._

_You don’t have to thank me, Dean. Taking care of each other is what we do._

_Are there actual bodies buried somewhere?_

_Relax and feel loved because I am here._

_Castiel_

________

_Gabriel’s Adventures in Fruitarianism, A love story_

_The Heavenly Brotherhood owned acres and acres of land. Included in the miles of landscape was a small farm.  The residents of capable age would till the dirt and grow crops for our large family to feast upon.  Along with the gardens the brotherhood also kept several useful animals: horses, cows, pigs, chickens and one goat._

_Our tight little group of 8 shared a room in one of the ranch houses closest to the farm. Gabriel being the oldest would often take the chores that required him to be out late at night.  At the time we all thought he was being kind and letting us get a full night’s rest.  I now believe that the supposed nightly "chores" were a code word for his need to have privacy not found in our tight sleeping quarters._

_In the early mornings Samandriel and I were tasked with collecting fruit and vegetables for that day's meals. Not a very intensive job, but an important one.  I would push a wheelbarrow over the differing gardens as Samandriel collected what we would need.  Over the course of several weeks we were convinced that rats were living in the fields.  The suspicions were confirmed as we found several watermelons and a few cantaloupe with fist-size holes in one end.  Although, it was very curious how often we would find the guts of the fruit lying by its side._

_A week later Samandriel decided he would hide out in the gardens in order to catch the vermin that were destroying our food. Being a good brother I agreed to accompany him on his quest.  We dug a foxhole a few yards from the watermelon patch since that seemed to be a favorite.  Sitting in the dark, our only light from the three-quarter moon, we waited._

_It wasn’t long until we spotted a familiar figure creeping through the patch. Gabriel very quietly selected a slightly over-ripened watermelon and proceeded to saw a small hole in one end.  Shock was evident on both our faces as we froze in horror at the sight.  Our beloved older brother lowered his pants and chose to fornicate with a fruit._

_Needless to say that neither I nor Samandriel will ever enjoy a fruit salad again._

_Castiel_

________

_Dude, Cas,_

_There are tears rolling down my face as I try to calm the laughter. Seriously, I have to say that might be the most disturbing story involving fruit I have ever read.  And I have seen some pretty outrageous shit on the internet._

_You held up your part of the bargain so I will give you a blowjob coupon to be used whenever you are feeling horny. I will keep the blindfolds in the hope that you will warm up to the idea.  Cas, you are gorgeous.  I want to explore your skin with my hands and tongue.  There isn’t a chance in hell that I will reject your glorious body, so toss that idea out the window right now.  Sure, there are marks and scars.  I’m not stupid; I am aware of the abuse you sustained as a child.  I have my own scars.  Would you like to map mine out first?  Yes, you’ve seen my naked ass, but you can kiss each spot and make it better?  Cause I gotta tell you Cas, I am all over that._

_Where on your hip? From what I can tell your hips are downright sinful.  Let’s find a time for me to explore the area for an informed opinion.  You don’t even have to show the goods maybe just give me a quick peek of the location.  So I can think about it as I touch myself._

_The song is “Hey Jude”. I sing it to you when Mr. Comatose visits.  Should I switch to another song?_

_Body buried._

_You are right. We both deserved better than the raw deal life handed us._

_What’s it like to be catatonic?_

_Love you,_

_Dean_

________

_Dear Dean,_

_The closest thing to a catatonic state would be a coma. I have no real memories of what happens but sometimes I get a faint echo of things.  An example would be your singing “Hey Jude” to me.  I sadly don’t recall the event but I still find myself humming the tune.  Please continue to converse and sing to me when I’m under.  I do find it soothing, probably because it’s you._

_Yes, I would be extremely excited to map out your expansive skin with my fingertips and tongue. A chance to touch your delicious flesh is always welcomed.  Perhaps we could do specific pieces of our body at a time.  I go first, and whatever I touch you can do in return.  This way we both win and the spaces are clearly defined ahead of time, so I can mentally prepare for it._

_I don’t want to push you about the oral sex. If you feel unsure I will completely understand._

_Definitely keep the blindfold. It will be used, I promise._

_Body buried? Dean, is this something we should tell Sam or Dr. Shurley?  Do you think he will come after you again?_

_Tell me something positive about your childhood._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

________

_Cas,_

_Nah, don’t stress, it was a fair trade and I’m pretty sure I got the better end of the deal. Your blowjob coupon has been included with this entry.  I am sorry about all the glitter.  Gadreel saw me working on it and wanted to help.  Will those guys ever take a hint about boundaries?  There has to be something wrong when I make a sex coupon for you with your older brother._

_Oh, I really like the idea of working sex ..tion by section. (see what I did there, LOL ) We should start soon or I’m might implode with sexual frustration.  Don’t worry I’m just kidding …mostly._

_Right now my Dad is behind bars. Sam made sure that his bail is way out of his price range, so no need to fuss over it until he gets out. Okay, don’t flip out, but there is a small chance he may keep coming until it gets resolved.  Ugh, I just want a clean slate when I get out of here, and that is not going to happen._

_One of my favorite childhood memories was Thanksgiving at our Uncle Bobby’s. Sam was 11 and I was 15; we were living with Bobby full time, and he invited some of his neighbors over for the holiday.  Bobby tried to fry the turkey and ended up setting a car in the junkyard on fire.  Best light show for a holiday ever.  One of Bobby’s neighbor’s kept flirting with him the whole day, it was hysterical watching him run from her.  It felt real, like for the first time Sammy and I were experiencing what other kids had.  Not to mention there was a screw up in who was bringing what and we ended up with 6 pies.  SIX!  That was a great memory for sure._

_What about you? Did you guys even celebrate holidays?_

_I love your smile,_

_Dean_

________

_Dear Dean,_

_May I strongly suggest that you discuss these hidden "bodies" with your brother? The thought of that man continuing to chase you is quite distressing.  You have enough scars from your Father; I don’t want anymore._

_The oral sex coupon is lovely. I believe I know just the time to cash it in for the full experience.  No matter where I go or where our paths lead us, my brothers will always be a huge part of my life.  It’s true our comprehension of boundaries is non-existent, unfortunately that will never change.  They are the reason I survived this long and deserve a little wiggle room when it comes to societal norms.  If you want me, Dean, they ALL come with the package._

_The proposal of permitting you to explore my body in small predetermined areas is acceptable. Thank you, Dean.  Your ability to find a common ground for us to meet on is a blessing.  Thank you._

_No, celebrations of any kind were considered works of the devil.  I find that belief odd now seeing how Michael’s behavior towards us has often been describes as demonic torture of children.  He was an ugly man who prided himself in controlling all those around him._

_We did celebrate the births of new children to the family, only on the actual day of the birth, not a yearly tradition. I remember the day Hael was born.  She was beautiful, her eyes the palest of blue I had ever seen in my six years of life.  Gadreel took to her, immediately claiming she must live with us in our room.  No one dissuaded him because that meant we all had to help in caring for her.  When we brought her back to our room Gabriel had a cradle waiting.  She was the last addition to our pack, and I will never forget singing her a lullaby that first night._

_I don’t even have a picture of Hael. As the years go by it becomes harder and harder to recall her face, but Dean, her eyes, those will stay with me always._

_I love your kindness,_

_Castiel_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, and riddles are happily accepted. : )
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	18. because you’re mine

* * *

 

Propped against the big bay window of the media room, Dean surveys the front drive leading to the hospital. Snow banks billow over the expansive front yard farther than the eye can see.  The space is so blank and uninviting; with only a couple trees to mark the beginning of the drive, a complete opposite to the gardens and river just on the other side of the large building.  He’s not been out there since the first day when Sheriff Hanscum drove him up the winding road.  His heart twinges with pain at the thought that one day Sam will drive him away down the same path.  No matter what he does, Cas will eventually follow, but he must head out alone.  Six and a half months should seem like a long time, but to Dean it’s not enough, not fucking long enough.

“You are not alone,” he whispers to the chilly window. The mantra has become his beacon of hope from the darkness.  Yes, he will leave, but Castiel has settled into his heart and no amount of distance can change that.

Sensing someone approaching, Dean doesn’t even look. The large stance and broad shoulders tell him that it’s Gadreel, the slight tremor in the man’s left hand reveals Ezekiel is currently unavailable.

Keeping his eyes out towards the view, Cas’s brother muses, “Castiel has big plans for you tonight.”

“Does he?” Dean’s not sure why, their Valentine's date is still two days away.  The gift for Cas arrived yesterday and is hiding between his briefs in a drawer.

Both men gaze at the tranquil scenery, a few trees shivering from a gust of wind, shaking snow to the already white ground. “Indeed, but you need to be ready for consequences that are not to your liking.”

Dean scoffs, irritated, “I am perfectly aware that he might go catatonic.” He shoves off the glass to move forward, puffing up his chest in process.  Gadreel might be taller, but Dean’s not some scrappy teenager.  He’s a grown-ass man who will defend and protect what he loves.  A smile tugs at his lips with the thought.  “Won’t be my first time, I know how to care for him.”

 “Castiel wants this, but he’s pushing things that have remained silent for over a decade.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific?” Dean queries, inching closer so they are a mere breath apart. “Cas feels he’s ready to push a few of his boundaries.  I think we should both trust his instincts.”

“He’s broken, Dean, probably beyond repair. Do you really want to take that on?”

Inhaling deeply, Dean moves away from Gadreel just a tad, giving some space between the two men. “Have you ever been to Nashville?”

The deadpan "are you an idiot" look the other man gives him is a clear and obvious, no.

“There is this park in the middle of the city with a playground for the kids. A lot of the munchkins call it dragon park because of this massive stone dragon in the center of the play area.  It’s this beautiful art piece that was dedicated to the city or something.  When you get up close you can see all the broken and jagged pieces of glass and pottery that cover the cement animal.  I sat there once for hours watching all these kids climbing all over it.”

“So?” Gadreel asks, confused by the story.

“In that park the future of Nashville laughs and plays on broken things. Sometimes it’s not about being broken, but how it can be re-used to make something amazing.”

A cold chill shivers down his spine as Gadreel replies, “And if he screams?”

“Cas only screams in his nightmares,” Dean retaliates, although his voice betrays him with a slight quiver.

“Not always, Dean.” Gadreel’s tone is calm, clearly trying to placate him.  “A few years ago Ed innocently stumbled into Castiel’s room looking for Garth.  My brother had been changing so he was down to his boxers.  We could hear the terror filled shrieks all the way in the commons.  It took a heavy dose of Haldol to quiet him.”  Cas’s brother pats Dean’s shoulder. “What will you do if this occurs?”

His mind is spinning with possible suggestions, but they all are tossed away for one reason or another. Then the smile grows as his answer appears through the muck. “I’ll place his hand on my chest and sing to him.”

“Sing?” Gadreel drops a bitch face that even Sam would be proud of. “I have heard you doing this when he is catatonic.  Do you honestly think it will help if he’s in a state of complete psychosis?”

“Let me tell you something about your little brother Castiel. One, he’s stronger than any of you give him credit for.  Two, he’s a stubborn son of a bitch who isn’t going to back down when his mind is made up.  And finally, he’s consciously made the choice to invite me to touch him.  That’s a whole different ballgame than Ed ripping open the door and scaring the crap out of him.”

“I like you,” Gadreel announces with a bit of surprise in his tone.

Dean grins crossing his arms, “Well, good, cause I like you too.”

“My family is not normal.” Castiel’s brother knocks on the window, letting the hollow noise take root.  “The way we grew up was sort of like the twilight of dusk.”

“Sorry, man, you’re going to have to explain that one. All that frilly stuff goes over my head.”

Gadreel squints tightly at Dean, very reminiscent of his own angel. “You should not play dumb here, Dean.  No one believes it for a second.  Castiel is well read and intelligent, he would not choose a stupid lover.”

“Just explain it.” Dean blushes, his eyes returning to the white canvas outside the glass.

“We had love. Don’t ever doubt that Castiel grew up with love.  Having eight siblings, there was always someone with a big hug and gentle touch.  Our lives had meaning, and we felt valued as members of the brotherhood.  His childhood was not this parade of everything horrible and evil.  I can’t deny the ugly side to our home, a shadow that was always lingering just outside, waiting patiently to strike.   Sort of like dusk when night is coming as the sun lowers and bows to the moon.  There is this moment when the sun is gone but the light still remains in streaks along the sky.  Almost like flames that are battling to remain.  Castiel’s past has vile revoltingly hateful memories of death, pain, and blood.  But I made sure that for every mark on his skin, every rip to his torn soul, there were double the days of smiles and laughter.  It is important that his happiness remains a priority.”

Grasping Gadreel’s shoulder with a squeeze Dean promises, “I will do ya one better, Gadreel. Castiel’s happiness will always be my ultimate goal but also his hope for tomorrow.  Without hope, it’s harder to make it through the darkness alive.  I know this first hand.”

“True,” Gadreel whispers. A silence trickles over them as the starkness of the view echoes their conversation.  “Please,” the plea is a sorrowful hushed tone, “don’t take him from us.”

There is nothing but horror from that one sentence blowing through Dean’s mind. He snatches Gadreel’s face cupping his chin, giving the jaw a little tug for good measure.  “Never, I understand that this is a package deal.”  A tear wobbles at the crook of his eye. “I can’t live without him, but neither can you.”

A river of tears pours down Cas’s brother’s cheeks. Unable to speak, Gadreel nods his agreement, gasping for air.  Finally he finds his voice once more.

“Hannah has requested that you put her on your visitor list. Castiel has written several letters containing details about his feelings for you.  Our adoring sister wants to …check you out.”

God, these guys really are the kings of the non-sequitur. Shaking off the last conversation, Dean jumps into the next one without missing a beat.  “Sure, is she just ‘Hannah’ or did she grow a last name on the outside?”

“She is married. Why would she take anything other than her husband’s name?”

“Never mind, dude. What’s her name?”  Dean’s extremely interested in meeting one of the sisters.  Hael is clearly not an option, and Anna appears to be the worst off of the bunch on the looney scale.

“Hannah MacLeod.”

****

All evening Cas has been off. Nothing major just a bit fewer smiles, and damn if his roommate hasn’t been super clingy too.  Okay, Dean kind of likes that part a little too much.  He and Cas are sitting on the sofa watching a Bones re-run.  Cas has a real thing for David Boreanaz; Dean’s pretty sure they only watch the show for the actor.  However, Gabriel has assured him that Castiel’s love for Boreanaz doesn’t hold a candle to his passionate love for Dean.

Tonight Cas is slammed right up next to him. Dean can literally feel Cas’s every inhale and exhale.  Their fingers are tightly woven together, resting on Dean’s thigh.  Again he knows something is up, but God how can he complain when 6 feet of gorgeous angel is smooshed against him.  Eventually Cas’s head droops to his shoulder, and yep, Dean is in heaven.

All through dinner Dean tried to decide what the big plan for tonight might be. His gut is screaming that Castiel will use his BJ coupon. At the mere mention Dean’s throat goes dry with desire and raw anticipation.  Yet, that can’t be all of it, because why would Cas be nervous about that? Dean will only get to see his cock, which is truly a sight to behold but also nothing new.  So what the fuck is happening?  He would ask, but what if Cas has this big production planned and Dean ruins it all by asking stupid questions.  So he does what Winchesters do best, ignore all intelligent ideas and hope it all works out in the end.

Cole blocks the view of the TV announcing, “It’s 9:30 p.m. guys, those who want showers before lights out need to head out now.”

Dean knows for a fact Cas had his bath after dinner because it left more time for him to stew over the coming evening’s activities. However, his roomie leaps to his feet sprinting out of the space.  He rises to follow only for Inias to saunter by pushing Dean back on the couch.

“Sorry Dean, you have to stay put until lights out.” Inias takes the empty spot left by Cas, his eyes focused on the show.  Dean’s mouth opens when the other man cuts in with, “Nope, questions are forbidden.  Just sit there and be glad Gabriel didn’t pull babysitting duty.”

“Fuck you, I’m not a baby,” Dean whines with an obvious pout on his lips.

Chortling through the next sentence, Inias responds, “Sure about that?”

Twenty five minutes later, Missouri swings into the room shouting, “Okay I need my stragglers in your beds in five, boys!”

“May I leave now?” Dean spits out sarcastically.

Inias smacks his cheek softly. “Oh, poor baby, yes you can go now.”

“Thanks,” Dean huffs dramatically, but that’s all he says because he has a much better place to be like fucking right now.

When he bursts into his room the setting is peculiarly normal. Cas is sitting by his desk leisurely scribbling on a blank sheet of paper.  Dean scans the area, noticing that there is nothing out of the ordinary.  Well fuck, maybe Inias was yanking his chain.  Although cruel, it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibilities.  Deciding that he’s overreacting, Dean strolls into the bathroom to wash his make-up off and brush his teeth.  Damn, he’s such a moron.

“Cas, your brothers are assholes!” Dean yells as he scrubs his face.  Unsurprisingly there is no reply.

He hears the door close and lock, signaling the 10 o’clock hour. Guess he should grab a book and read a bit because all this false anticipation has him amped up.  Dean wanders out of the bathroom to a piece of paper being thrust into his face.  Accepting it with a grin, Dean reads the note.

_Dean,_

_I would like to start with arms and shoulders tonight. There is a tank top on your bed. Kindly put it on for me.  I get to explore first, then your turn.  A kiss to the lips will mark the beginning of my session and a second kiss to end.  Is this acceptable?_

_Cas_

“Hell yes, that’s so fucking acceptable, Cas.” Dean nearly trips over his own feet in an urgency to change to the black wife beater on his pillow.  A quick look at his roommate confirms that Cas has a matching top under his white scrubs.  He’s not entirely sure how arms can be a turn on but damn touching his angel’s flesh, regardless of location, is AWESOME!

Once the shirt is in place, Castiel guides Dean to remain standing in the center of the room. Cas places himself directly in front of Dean permitting their eyes to lock for several minutes.  Wow, his boyfriend has the hottest come hither look on the entire planet.  Immediately Dean decides that this information is going in the vault. 

Tilting forward, Castiel brushes his lips over Dean’s in an innocent kiss. Taking Dean’s right hand into his, Cas lifts his fingers so they can be inspected with that vivid sapphire gaze.  Gradually, with a feather-light caress, Cas runs his hands up Dean’s arms, weaving his digits over the ink embedded in the flesh.  Dean knows when he’s hit a scar because the progression halts just past his elbow.  Cas lifts his face as he leans his head to the side with a quizzical look. 

“I was 23, taking down a rather nasty fugitive. He enjoyed harming women, and it felt good to be the one to make sure he stayed behind bars. Well, it didn’t go smoothly; a fight erupted and he pulled a knife, leaving that lovely scar.  Took ten stitches to clean up the mess a serrated hunter’s blade will cause.”

Supple plush lips press onto the aged injury, making Dean’s skin blaze with excitement, followed by a wet tongue that traces the jagged blemish. He was so wrong, arms are fucking erotic.  The building bulge in his pants perks up with interest.

Nimble fingers move over his bicep with determined interest, mapping out every inch. The intensity of Cas’s exploration forces a quiver up his spine. At the tip of his neck Dean giggles. Jesus what is this guy doing to him?  Dean giggles and doesn’t care when he breaks out a second time as Castiel focuses on this new found trigger.

Eventually Cas takes pity on his inability to breathe from all the laughing and moves onward toward his left shoulder, and the pause this time is much more dramatic. Castiel completely stops moving to stand face to face with Dean pointing at the wicked scar on the lower end of his collarbone.  Dear Lord a fierce Castiel is both terrifying and cute.

“It’s a bullet wound, Cas. Big shocker, I survived.”

Holy Shit, the last time he saw Cas this riled up he was knocking his Dad’s teeth out. His silent friend stomps over to his desk furiously writing on a scrap of notebook paper then holding it up for Dean to read.  Pointing at it with a true take no prisoner’s attitude.

_Tell me the story now! All of it and as of this minute you are to never go back to that dangerous profession again.  Do you understand?  You don’t want any more marks on my skin, well Baby that goes both ways!!!_

His brain skitters on that one term of endearment, “Baby? When did you start calling me Baby?”

The excessive eye roll Cas produces was by far his best.

“Fine. One, I’ve already told you my plan to stay in Little Falls, find a job, maybe build us a house. Two –”

Without a warning, Dean’s mouth is assaulted with Cas’s lips and talented tongue. The kiss is rough, needy and so hot.  Oxygen?  What is more important than his boyfriend sucking his tongue so deliciously that he will definitely feel it for days?  Screw oxygen.

The two men topple over Dean’s mattress with a sea of limbs intertwining, but the kissing still doesn’t halt. The taste of Cas on his lips, the moans from both men dispersing into the room take permanent residence in Dean’s spank bank.  Finally, when Dean’s lungs are shouting for air he pulls away to find wild chaotic hair floating over the gorgeous face of his angel.

“What in the hell was that, Cas?”

A sheepish little shrug is his roommate’s reply. Cas sits up, still straddling Dean’s thighs, making a little motion like someone hammering.

“Have I never mentioned that I want to build a house for us?”

Shaking his head harshly, Cas sighs, but the massive smile on his lips is quite telling. This makes Dean very happy because the crinkles in his boyfriend’s eyes at that moment are his absolute favorite.

“I don’t even know if it’s possible. Like we would need land and money that we don’t have, but it’s a dream.  Someone once told me it’s healthy to have goals.”

Castiel climbs off his resting place, much to Dean’s dislike, but then is back with their journal. As he waits for Cas to finish his note, he wonders if the writing thing helps them or hurts them in the long run.  Because it allows them time to really cultivate what they want to say.  Saves a lot of heartache over silly misunderstandings. And yet waiting for his lover to scrawl out a reply can be so infuriating.  The prolonged anticipation may literally give him a heart attack one day.  

Holding it up, Dean reads;

_Don’t tease me. Are you serious about building a future or is this just idle ponderings?_

Rising to be more level with Cas while tugging him in tight to his crotch, Dean assures, “I am dead serious, Cas. Well at first I was thinking a little two bedroom cabin, but now I’m not so sure.”

There is no reason for his boyfriend to speak as his facial expressions reply “ _Why?”_

“It would appear that seven bedrooms might be more appropriate. Ya know when the rest of the clan gets released to our custody?”

Cas goes totally motionless and for a second Dean thinks he’s fallen under the stoic spell. A loud sob breaks through the silence; before he knows what’s happening Dean’s got a lap full of loudly crying angel.

“Cas. Cas.  If its too soon we don’t have to do it.  Please don’t cry.”  He tugs Castiel’s chin up to face him making sure their eyes meet.  “What did I do wrong?”

Shaking his head firmly his roommate wails even louder which really freaks Dean out.

“Shit. Shit.  Shit.”  No matter how many kisses or hugs he gives, Cas just bawls.  Shockingly out of nowhere Cas yanks his shirt off to reveal the black tank.  A small part of Dean wants to tell him no, but he’s speechless as his gaze ravishes the flesh.

“I don’t have the blindfold," Dean blurts out, realizing the ridiculousness of the comment, a little late for sure.

Carefully Cas places Dean’s hands on his bared skin, nodding gently. That’s all that Dean needs to turn his focus towards his gorgeous boyfriend’s body.

His fingers move of their own accord, ghosting over warm delicate skin that smells of Cas. Hastily, he traces the "An Angel of the Lord" tattoo, following the ink and attempting to ignore the deep cuts within the cosmos flowers.  Instead he places his lips on each scar.

“You are amazing, Cas,” Dean whispers between kisses. He never wants to stop, but unfortunately having the man in his lap hinders some progression but he so doesn’t care.

Through the exploration, Castiel’s howling dampers to soft sobs. He must voice his intentions so they are on the same page.  Cas needs to understand that he is Dean’s entire world.  “I love you, Cas.  I want a future that is with you.  If that includes your brothers and even Anna, then that’s my life because I don’t have any deal breakers with you save one…”

The tears halt as Cas waits in eagerness to hear the one reason Dean would walk away.

“You don’t want me,” Dean answers dryly.

Resting his forehead on Dean’s, Cas slides their hands together. There is fear in his boyfriend’s face that scares Dean a lot, but then those beautiful lips that have remained silent for too fucking long counter in a hushed tone, almost like a prayer.  “I love you, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading dear friends.  
> Comments and questions are loved and cherished.
> 
> XOXO_ Angie


	19. Anywhere I go there you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced in the chapter is “Fire and the Flood” by Vance Joy
> 
> Thank you to HartsNblueyes for introducing me to the artist. I LOVE HIM!

* * *

A chill sweeps over Dean’s body, so naturally he snuggles back into his own personal heater. No more than 30 seconds later, his brain announces that there is, in fact, no one in bed with him.  Well that’s just silly. Cas hates, loathes, detests rising in the morning, so there is no way in hell that he’s not behind Dean.  Smacking his head into the wall should have been his first clue.

Eventually Dean rouses himself into consciousness, the silence in the room a little unnerving. Even when sleeping, Cas makes tiny noises that soothe Dean’s nerves, reminding him that his boyfriend is alive and kicking.  However, at this exact moment the space holds a complete lack of anything other than the sounds coming from Dean’s own chest.  As he stretches his eyes flutter open, scanning the other bed only to find it empty.

A rush of panic crushes Dean’s lungs. He groans with his sleep-ridden throat, “Cas.”  After a few beats of nothing in reply he sits up, glancing towards the open door of their bathroom. 

“Cas?” he shouts with slightly more volume, but still realizes he’s talking to the walls.

Ruby 2.0 saunters in from the hall, “Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome. Throw on your pants before you miss breakfast.”

“What time is it?” He notes that the alarm clock in their room is turned towards the wall.

“Almost 8:30, so hurry up because Jo has heart-shaped pancakes with strawberries.”

Shaking his head, Dean’s extremely perplexed because he always wakes when the door unlocks at 7 a.m., but there is a much more pressing matter to discuss, “Where is Cas?”

“He said you would pout.” Ruby the 2nd taps his nose with her finger.  “Your boyfriend is out for the morning.  Not to worry, he will return with time to spare before your special lunch date.”

“What do you mean out?” Dean twirls around the space searching for a note to explain Cas’s absence. 

Ruby responds, “Hannah took him off campus for a few hours. Seriously, she will take excellent care of him.  I promise.”

“Fine,” Dean scoffs, unsure how he feels about Castiel’s disappearance. Why the hell would Cas keep it a secret?

Throwing on a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, Dean stumbles out to the commons, where he discovers heart-shaped pancakes with strawberries and cream. Dean’s starving, so he gobbles down two helpings before returning to the hall for a shower.  Since he suddenly has all this free time he might as well clean up for later.

After his shower, Dean stands in front of the long mirror wearing nothing but a towel as he decides whether to put on his eyeliner. Cas has been quite clear that he doesn’t care, but Dean finds more confidence with the mask fully in place.  He’s in the process of digging through his shower bag for the black pen when Gabriel exits the shower stall next to the one he just left.

“How they hanging, Dean-O?” Gabe exclaims, grabbing a brush from his own bag and attempting to calm his wild locks.

Dean pauses to take in the other man’s jovial demeanor. Gabriel on a bad day can be bouncy and cheerful, but right now Cas’s brother reminds him of a Corgi on crack.  Dean thanks the Almighty Lord that today Gabe dons at least a pair of alligator adorned boxers.  He’s dancing on the balls of his feet, twitching oddly and humming what might possibly be the theme song to Greatest American Hero.

“Slightly to the left, man,” and simply because he can’t help himself he inquires further, “what has got you all bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“You’re not the only one with a date today,” Gabe taunts with a wink.

Completely shocked by the statement, Dean pokes himself in the eye with his eyeliner pen. “Fuck!”

“That is the goal for today, yes.”

“Wait, who …like really who?” Dean halts any further makeup application for safety’s sake, focusing on Gabriel.

Cas’s older brother retrieves an electric razor as he answers, “Twice a year I meet up with an old friend from the brotherhood for some hanky-panky.”

“Eww, Gabe, she could be your sister.” His stomach is turning at the mere thought.

Twirling dramatically to face Dean, Gabe uses the razor to reel in his point. “No, she was ten when I was born and didn’t arrive on the Brotherhood homestead until the age of 15.  Therefore, she in no way shape or form can be any kind of blood relation.”

“Oh my God, you are still sleeping with Hester!” Dean can’t fathom which is worse. “She is most likely a strong contender for Cas’s mom.”

“Look, Castiel is fully aware of my ongoing bi-annual sex fest with Hester. I don’t see the problem here.  My body has needs which, I might add, you already get on the inside by my baby brother.”

“Touché.” Shrugging off the realization that even Dean knew Gabe did at some point fuck Hester, Gabriel flips on the electric razor, taming the beast of a beard he’s got going.  Dean notices the razor and asks, “Hey, how did you get that?”

“Just like with the regular razors, it’s kept at the nurse’s station, but I don’t have to be supervised to use it.”

Looking back at the mirror, Dean scrutinizes his own unruly scruff as he queries, “Do you actually like Hester? She’s gotta be pushing 50.”

“Forty eight, thank you very much, and yes I really do like her. It’s easier to be with someone who already knows my past life.”  Gabriel halts the shaving midway to finishing his statement.  “Most people who live around here talk about the Heavenly Brotherhood like it’s a tall tale, something to scare the kiddies around the campfire.  The problem is to us it was real.  There were no boogeymen, just human beings that enjoyed the sight of our blood.  Hester is perfectly aware of all my dirty laundry because she’s been folding it since I was a kid.  Not to mention she is one kinky cougar.”

“Shut up, Gabe,” Dean teases before asking to use the razor himself.

****

Butterflies are mounting a serious invasion of Dean’s stomach as he sits ramrod straight on his bed. Garth informed him that Ruby 1.0 would give him a yell when lunch in the media room was ready.  Rubbing at his chin, Dean hopes that the slight dusting of scruff he left on his face is the ruggedly handsome look he’s going for and not reminiscent of "I live in a psych ward" casual. 

He’s got the bouquet of flowers in a plastic vase by his feet with a gift bag next to it. Unfortunately, Jess wrapped the gift, and it appears her raging pregnancy hormones got the best of her because the bag is littered with red hearts and little chubby babies with bows and arrows.  Dean’s wearing his best pair of dark jeans and a forest green button up that Bobby sent for his birthday.

Having not seen Cas all day is only revving up his anxiousness at the impending lunch date. What the hell is wrong with him?  This should be easy.  They even have an actual God damn chaperone.  A rap at the door startles him as blonde hair peeks around the doorframe.

“Date time,” Ruby the 1st shouts, waving for him to follow her.

Taking a deep breath Dean exhales, “I love him; he loves me. No big deal.”

He enters the media room, and all the butterflies drift away at the sight of his boyfriend. Cas has changed from his typical white scrubs.  Today he’s wearing a slightly wrinkled dark navy suit with a tie that does amazing things for his eyes.  Dean would ridicule his clothing selection, but for some reason on Cas it’s perfect.

“You look good.” Dean smiles, placing the gift and flowers on the table between their two plates of what might be ravioli. 

The table is set beautifully with a white table cloth and two candles burning between them. Even better, Castiel pulls him into a warm embrace with a soft kiss to the lips.  Dean might huff a bit when Cas steps back, but then his angel is pulling out his chair.

“Man, Cas, you’re pulling out all the suave moves; I’ll have nothing left.”

Giving Dean an appropriate eye roll, Cas takes his own seat next to him and gestures toward their meal. It would seem that Dean is expected to take the first bite.  His stomach grumbles as the delicious aroma encourages him to obey.

“Oh God, Cas, so gooood,” Dean coos over his second bite of beef ravioli with a basil tomato sauce.

Blue eyes light up like a Christmas tree at Dean’s compliment. Dean’s shoveling in his fourth spoonful when Cas finally takes a small scoop to his own lips.  The tension in the room is palpable as his roommate chews slowly then attempts to swallow.  Unfortunately, it takes a few tries before he gets it down.  Castiel continues the meal with tiny bites and sips of water, but honestly Dean doesn’t notice anything unappealing.  Alright, he choked twice, burped a dozen times and possibly threw up in his own mouth over the course of their meal, but Dean didn’t care. 

With their plates licked clean, well Dean’s anyway, Cas politely points to the bouquet Dean brought. Understanding immediately, he pushes over the plastic vase so his boyfriend can get a better look.

He quickly identifies each bloom and their meaning. “First, we have two red tulips, which mean true love.  I think that one is self explanatory.  Second, you will find three daffodils.  There were several meanings for this flower, but what it boils down to for me is hope.  I have hope for us and in us, Cas, and I always will.  Then these green plants are ivy, which symbolizes eternal fidelity.  From this moment I pledge my faithfulness to you, Cas.  I am your devoted boyfriend in every sense of the word.”

Dean is interrupted with a kiss. He pauses long enough to taste the ravioli on Cas’s talented tongue before they break apart.

“This final flower is obviously a primrose. So in the book you gave me it stated that primroses in general mean eternal love, but yellow ones like this one here are telling you something very important, Cas.”

His roommate’s head tilts ever so slightly to the left as he waits for the ultimate reveal of the bouquet.

“I can’t live without you.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to slide his fingertips over Castiel’s strong jaw, pulling him forward for a passionate kiss. Their lips glide naturally together like they’ve been doing the motion their entire lives.  Perhaps his body has always been waiting for the angel.

When they part, Cas touches each bud, smiling. Dean bursts with pride recognizing that he did a good job in choosing the flowers for their special meal.  Cas then leans back, grabbing two boxes from behind him. The first is a large heart-shaped box that Dean recognizes will be full of delicious chocolates for later.

However, it’s the second box that has his attention. It’s a simple white box about the size of a coffee table book.  Maybe Cas got him a book about a place he wants to visit someday.  Actually, that sounds like an awesome present. Dean’s envisioning an epic cross-country road trip when his brain halts on the official looking documents in the box. 

It’s a deed to property just outside of Little Falls. Confused, Dean shuffles the papers around, trying to grasp what’s happening.  Under the paperwork is a photo.  The picture is of a gorgeous open space, flanked by rows of trees.  Then he sees the note in Cas’s handwriting.  Hoping to get some clarifications, he reads it.

_Dean, My Love_

_Happy Valentine’s Day! I am so blessed that you are in my life, not only as an amazing friend but my lover as well.  Thank you for every kiss and touch.  I love you more every day, and I don’t plan to stop until my heart no longer beats._

_This morning I finalized the purchase of 2 acres of land just north of Little Falls. It will be an easy commute to Heavenly Hosts Hospital.  It was part of an old farm that was broken up, and our acreage hasn’t been touched in years.  Plan our house, Dean, build it with extra bedrooms or two houses side by side.  I want to help your vision come true by giving you the funds to create our home out of nothing.  Along with the deed to the property, you will also find a joint checking account.  There should be enough to bankroll the project and then some._

_When Hannah comes to visit please thank her because she was crucial in setting this all up in time for our gift exchange._

_I love you, Dean. I want a future with you that is solid and in motion.  Let’s make your dream that is also mine into a reality._

_Yours Forever and a Day,_

_Castiel_

Dean’s mouth drops open in shock. He doesn’t know what to say.  How do you thank someone for handing you your life’s dream on a platter?  Glancing at his own present he scowls at how it pales in comparison.  Cas’s gentle fingers are tugging his face back to catch his blue gaze.  Obviously Cas understands where his mind was going as he shakes his head, gesturing for Dean to use his words.

“Cas …this is too much.” Unable to look him in the eye, Dean stares at Ruby 1.0 sitting silently in the corner.  However, she’s not faring much better because her eyes are the size of saucers.  “Why?”

The kiss is unhurried, tender, exploding in love. Tears are dripping from both their eyes as Cas tilts back just enough to whisper, “Because I love you.”

“Jesus,” Ruby gasps.

Silence falls over the room until Castiel shakes them out of it by pointing towards his unopened gift from Dean. Still recovering from the shell shock of his present, Dean pushes it over to Cas without a word.

The first thing Cas retrieves from the stupid Valentine’s Day on crack bag is a CD. His boyfriend cocks his head to the side in a quizzical fashion.

“I had Jess burn a song we could dance to. I realize we’ve already crossed it off the list, but you seemed to really like frolicking about.”

Castiel’s expression explodes with joy at the idea, bobbing his head in delighted glee. Then he pulls out the other half of Dean’s gift.  It’s a small black velvet box.  All in all Dean’s kind of glad Cas’s present was such a big deal because now he doesn’t feel like an idiot giving this to him.  Slowly Cas cracks open the top, holding up a long silver chain with a simple silver band hanging from it.

Feeling that this is an important moment, Dean takes it from Castiel’s fingers to place around his boyfriend’s neck. Only once the necklace is secure and in its rightful place does he explain the meaning behind the jewelry.

“The ring was my mother’s.” Dean rubs the back of his neck anxiously as he continues, “You gave me the gift of our future, and I give you a piece of my past.  I guess we are still flowing with the yin yang thing.”

The sniffling from the corner only solidifies the beauty of the moment. “You two are going to ruin me for any other relationship,” Ruby complains as she crosses to grab the CD, wiping her eyes with a napkin and putting the disc in the overhead player.

The sound of a guitar fills the space as Dean rises, taking Cas’s hand in his. The song has an upbeat bounce to it, lifting both their spirits.  Dean laces his left hand into Cas’s right and then places his right hand on Cas’s muscular back. It takes a few seconds and a couple of sore toes to figure out who’s leading who. But eventually Dean guides Cas around the media room, letting the cheerful music lighten the mood.

At the second verse, Dean joins the singer, “I been getting used to waking up with you. I been getting used to waking up here.  Anywhere I go there you are.  Anywhere I go there you are.  There you are, there you are.”

Totally falling into step with the song, Dean spins Cas in circles, finding success when his boyfriend explodes into giggles. God, this is literally his happy place; the love of his life smiling, laughing as sapphire eyes light up with raw excitement. Dean feels such a sense of pride that he can do this; he can be this for Cas.

Dean takes a couple of verses to just enjoy the moment with Castiel before breaking out into song once again, “You’re the fire and the flood and I’ll always feel you in my blood. Everything is fine when your head’s resting next to mine, next to mine.  You’re the fire and the flood.”

Staring into his future, Dean has never felt so light on his feet, even dancing like a moron in a psychiatric hospital.

As the song ends Dean embraces Cas, listening to his boyfriend’s heavy breathing into his neck. There is something that he’s been meaning to do for his lover, and this is the perfect moment.  Shifting his gaze to meet Ruby’s, he announces, “Hey, we are going to take a nap in our room.”

“Sure, why not?” She waves them off, cleaning up the dishes. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just hit the Xanax later.  I’ll be totally fine.”

“Okay,” Dean nervously exclaims as Cas snatches his hand, yanking him towards the exit and on to their room.

Dean shuts the door behind them, double checking that the latch is in place. God forbid one of the brothers walks in while Dean’s on his knees.  He would never hear the end of it.  Castiel is pulling out the colorful blowjob coupon when Dean makes a decision.

“Put the coupon away for today, Cas. I wanna do this for you as an added bonus for your gift.”

His boyfriend holds up the ring around his neck, showing exactly what Dean gave him for the holiday, and obviously Cas thinks it’s plenty, but it's not to Dean.

“Save the coupon for another day, Cas. Please let me do this; fuck, you bought me land, and you’re paying for the house.”

Castiel returns to his desk furiously writing a note then hands it over to Dean.

_You are going to build me a God damn house out of nothing with your bare hands. Do you know how foolishly romantic that is? But I am happy to keep the coupon for a rainy day if you wish?_

Raising his gaze to meet Cas’s, Dean responds, “Yeah, I wish that a whole lot.”

The two men stand unmoving for several minutes. Dean has no idea what he’s doing, but for Cas he’s willing to leap into oblivion.  Rolling his hips into Castiel’s groin, Dean smirks with a wink.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Gradually the two men sway over to Cas’s bed.  Anxiety and arousal are battling over Dean’s groin as he carefully watches his lover sit down.  Licking his lips in approval, Dean drags his fingers through Cas’s hair.  

“God, I love you,” Dean whispers as though it were a secret. Grinning brightly, Cas leans into his touch.

Attempting to appear at ease, Dean drops to his knees between Cas’s legs; there’s one great thing about the suit, the fucking zipper. Dragging his fingernails up his boyfriend’s thighs, Dean plants a loud smacking kiss to his favorite pair of lips.  Then, letting his mouth linger, Dean deepens the kiss while his hands undo Cas’s belt and zipper, carefully retrieving his rock-hard prize.

Using feather light touches, Dean teases Cas’s cock, enjoying the whimpers this elicits. Moving downward, Dean leaves little chaste kisses on his lover’s neck before plummeting to the task at hand.  Well, the task at mouth if he’s being completely honest.  He wraps his fingers around the base of Castiel’s dick and keeps his other hand on Cas’s thigh to help keep his balance because Dean’s expecting one hell of a ride.

With his face bearing down on Cas’s groin, Dean takes a curious sniff. A smile spreads over his mouth because he’s pleasantly surprised to find the scent is kind of nice and nothing like a public urinal.  Dean chortles a little at his silly fear.  Basically, it’s a stronger aroma of Cas’s scent with a thicker, dark musk that encourages little Dean to attention.

A spark of desire encourages Dean into slipping out his tongue and lapping at the tip of the cock. Okay, he’s not going to be giving up apple pie for dick, but the salty bite isn’t horrible.  "Now or never" he muses as he slurps halfway down.  The weight of Cas’s erection on his tongue brings a shiver down Dean’s spine; fuck, he really likes the sensation.

Then as he begins to tentatively suck while stroking his hand up and down the base, something glorious occurs. Castiel, Angel of Thursday, moans.  The more Dean sucks, slurps, and thrusts Castiel’s dick deeper into his throat the louder and more erotic the noises from his boyfriend’s mouth become. 

“Son of a Bitch,” Dean mumbles over his mouthful.

Suddenly the goal of ripping even more cries from that amazing man of the Brotherhood is spurring Dean on to go harder, deeper, and suck like he’s never sucked in his entire life. A few of his own groans joining the chorus.  Without warning there is a mounting need to touch every inch of Castiel’s skin, but for now Dean will blissfully take what Cas is offering.

He can no longer ignore the aching from the erection in his own pants. In that moment something clicks in Dean’s mind.  He can’t recall a single sexual encounter before Cas where he was fighting off his own arousal.  It was always about pleasing the woman, because he never felt want mixed with so many other emotions.  His body is swirling with lust, love, friendship, and permanence.  The last one scaring and thrilling him at the same time.

Dean yearns for this as much as his partner, which is an entirely brand new experience in and of itself. Removing his hand from Cas’s thigh, Dean really wants to get a good hold of his own cock. But that’s multi-tasking on a whole different level.  In the end he just rubs the shit out of his dick, ignoring the chafing for the orgasm that crashes through him like a Mack truck.

Less than thirty seconds later a rather large amount of cum is flooding his mouth and dribbling off the side of his chin. Before he can even think to gag or ruin the moment, Dean swallows like he used to do as a kid when eating peas.  Who knew gulping down peas whole when he was five was prepping him for his future sex life? 

Dean has no idea how much time has passed, but eventually he lifts his eyes to meet Castiel’s. The guy is grinning from ear to ear.

“I guess I suck pretty good?”

Nodding wildly, Cas releases a hearty laugh that Dean can feel vibrate down to his perch on the linoleum. Well at least that’s one good memory with the cold flooring.  His lover cups his face, showing concern in his eyes.  Cas is asking him how he feels with one look.

Dean answers easily with one word, “Awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all! I really, really do. Comments and questions are always a highlight to my day.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	20. Be My Watermelon

 

Staring into the same blue eyes of his boyfriend, Dean readies himself for the inevitable — a conversation with Hannah. It’s been two days of pure bliss since their lunch date, and Dean’s still riding the high.  However, faced with the only Brotherhood sibling who made it out and into the real world he’s more than a little nervous.

Unlike with the brothers on his hall, there is a clear family resemblance between Hannah and Cas. Dean can’t decide how unsettling that is.  Hannah sits across the table from him in the commons, her brown hair cascading down to her shoulder with loose curls, hands folded tightly in her lap as she waits.

They shook hands and introduced themselves when Dean first walked in, but now they sit just watching one another. It doesn’t help that her stare rivals the intensity of his angel.  After a painful pause of silence, Hannah speaks first. “I have heard so much about you from all my brothers.”

“Don’t believe anything Gabriel says,” Dean quips with a smirk.

Hannah chuckles, replying, “I never do. His wild tales of your quest to win the affections of our brother Castiel seem a little over the top even for him.”

Picking at his fingernails, Dean decides to forge on to the point of the visit. “Why are you here Hannah?  Don’t trust your brothers to size up the new boyfriend?”

“Actually yes, in fact,” her gaze never faltering, “Castiel is going to great lengths for you. He’s even acquired the talents of your own brother to his detailed plan.”

“Sam?”

“Yes, your brother is Samuel Winchester, a lawyer from St. Paul?” She leans into the table, resting her elbows on the wood.

His mind races with ideas on what those two could be up to, so he answers with a nod, adding his own to the mix. “What are you talking about?”

“How do you think Castiel paid for the land he gave you? You don’t honestly think Zachariah simply handed him a check for 500,000 dollars.”

Coughing hysterically, Dean tries to inhale but holy shit! Ruby 2.0 rushes over, giving him a few good thwacks to the back.  Once his breathing pattern returns, Dean struggles to find the words.  “Are you kidding me?  The land couldn’t be worth near that much.”

“No, the two acres were very cheap.” Hannah cocks her head to the side, once again reminding Dean of Cas. “Have you not looked in the joint bank account I opened?”

Waving around to his surroundings, Dean sarcastically snickers, “Haven’t had a chance to make it to the bank lately.”

“It’s called online.” She sighs, patting his hand like a child.  “Sam was able to lean on Zachariah with the threat of a lawsuit.  To avoid any tarnish to his reputation, which the annoying man loves just slightly more than money, he agreed to a settlement which included the sums for the land and building costs.”

“What kind of lawsuit?”

“We’ve known for years that Zachariah has been skimming from the family trust to fund his own business ventures. The amount of the trust for all of us is quite large, so we didn’t think a thing about it.  But it gave Castiel the leverage he needed.”

An uneasy feeling settles in Dean’s stomach. “Is this a payoff? How are you guys going to pay the bills for this place?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we still have access to our monthly funds. The settlement was to keep us from going forward with criminal charges of fraud.  When my brothers are released, the allowance will still pay for their mental and healthcare, along with living expenses.”

Dean nods, taking in the wealth of information. He would bet his left testicle that the letter Cas passed to Sam on his birthday was getting all this rolling.  At least now he knows his angel and the brothers will be cared for regardless.

“Is this all you wanted to talk about?”

For the first time Hannah’s eyes dart about the room anxiously. Gesturing for Dean to move forward, she does the same, allowing them to meet in the middle of the table.

“The thaw is coming,” she states in an awed tone.

“Umm, have you had a few too many Game of Thrones marathons lately?” Dean’s pretty sure she messed up the quote, but maybe they let Hannah out to soon.  He thought it was Anna who communed with the voices in her head.

Huffing with annoyance, Hannah replies, “Yes, but that has nothing to do with the coming thaw.”

“I’m sorry, but I think the only code to your puzzle is up there.” Dean points to her head, hoping she’s not easily offended.  Although, this conversation is just getting weirder and weirder.

“Our sister Hael died after the first thaw of snow. The weather is how we kept the passing time while under the Brotherhood’s care.  I was told you knew about her death.”

Okay, now he’s the asshole. He does remember Cas writing about her death coinciding with the snow melting.  “Yes, I was told.  Sorry for your loss.”

A faint smile graces her lips, “Thank you.”

“Actually now that I think about it. It’s I who should be thanking you.  Weren’t you the one who trekked miles to the local sheriff’s office to report Hael’s murder?”

“I did, but there really was no other choice. They would have kept hurting my family because we would never have let her passing silence us.”

A slight chill sweeps over Dean at the coldness in her tone. “Weren’t the ones torturing you, family too?”

“Absolutely not. I have no parents, no aunts, no uncles, but I have five brothers and one sister left.  That is my family, and I will do anything for them.”

There is no doubt in Dean’s mind that this woman was raised by Gabriel. They may not all share the same DNA, but her loyalty to their band of eight is just as strong, which means he needs to heed her warnings.

“What will happen after the thaw?” No jokes this time.  Dean’s jaw is set with deadly accuracy and focus.

“You will lose Castiel. At least the one you have come to love and care for.  He will recover, they all will, but how you handle the next month will decide a lot.”

Fear winds up his spine, threatening to pull Dean under. The simple accusation that he could ever lose Cas is earth-shattering.  “What is there to decide?”

Hannah pulls back from the table, leaning into her chair and crossing her arms like armor. “Can you truly weather the shit storm that is our lives?  Castiel may improve.  I hope to God he gets to leave this place, but every year when the snow turns to slush you will always lose a piece of him.”

“I would rather have 11 good months with Cas than a whole year with someone I will most definitely love less.” Dean tightens his hands into fists to hide their trembling.  He didn’t lie, but does he have it together enough for the both of them?  Fuck, Dean has no choice but to try because he can say it over and over until the peanut gallery gets it.  He’s all in this with Cas.  There is no hiding the quaking in his voice. “It’s not a test.  I can’t fail.”

“No, Cas will love you despite what happens. The dire question is, will you still want him?”

“Always.” He says clear and proud without a moment’s hesitation.

*****

Dean lounges across the sofa, completely bored out of his mind. It’s just after dinner and he has hours to fill until lights out, and fuck he doesn’t want to do anything; not watch another re-run, or play Xbox, or study for his GED.  He’s restless after his conversation with Hannah and needing to let a little steam off.  Cas is behind him at one of the tables playing cards with Gabriel and Samandriel.  With a pitiful pout, Dean wanders over, dropping in the last empty seat.

“I am so bored. Let’s do something fun.”

Gabriel waves his hand over the table. “Gin Rummy is fun. We can deal you in next round.”

“Nooo,” Dean whines like he’s three. “I wanna do something new.”

The look Cas shoots him makes Dean’s toes curl. His boyfriend’s eyebrow cocks upward, which is seriously doing things to Dean, but then he leans over, whispering for only Cas, “Keep that idea.  We can do it after lights out.”

Nodding, Cas returns his gaze to normal, absentmindedly playing with his cards.

“We could play Box,” Gabriel announces oh so innocently.

Dropping his head to the wooden table with a bang, Dean mumbles, “Xbox is booooriiiing.”

“I didn’t say Xbox, I said we could play Box,” Gabriel jests.

Samandriel leaps to his feet, shouting, “I’ll go ask one of the Rubys if there are any in the storage room. I think our duct tape supplies are still under my bed.”  Then he dashes away like this is the best plan he’s heard all week. 

Even Cas lays down his cards with interest in this new "game."

Of course Dean has to be the one to ask, “What the hell is …box?”

Out of nowhere Kevin and Ed are leaning over the table exclaiming simultaneously, “Oh are we playing Box tonight?”

“Yes, boys we are,” Gabe answers, stroking his beard and releasing maniacal laughter. “Poor Dean here has never played, so we need to pop that cherry.”

The entire hall is now present and accounted for, all pumping with excitement. Benny is actually stretching in the corner like they are about to go a few rounds.  Frank of all people slides a chair next to Dean, sneering, “Think you’re man enough to play Box with the rest of us, boy?”

Glancing at Cas is no help, considering his grin is pretty easy to read. His boyfriend is not going to save him.

“Is this some pretend game just to fuck with me?” Dean ponders with frustration.

However, on his last word Samandriel returns, Inias in tow, both holding two very large boxes each. Gadreel also comes along, his arms loaded with different colors of duct tape rolls. 

A slap to Dean’s shoulder startles him as Gabriel takes pity finally clarifying, “No, this is a game we used to play back when we were kids. Fun, cheap way to pass the time.  With four boxes that means we will have four teams.  The hallway is kind of narrow so we will have to play in heats of two.  Three teams of three and one of two.”

“Me and Benny are the team of two!” Kevin shouts.  The kid is practically bouncing off the walls.

Dean’s scanning the room as people are working out teams, but he still doesn’t understand the game. “But how do you play?”  He screams, standing so fast he knocks his chair to the floor.

Cas’ hand grabs his elbow yanking, him to stand with Inias. Okay, well shit, now he has a team but—

“Don’t worry, Cas and I are reigning champions,” Inias gloats, puffing his chest out.

Finally Gabriel climbs on top of a chair, bellowing, “Now for the rules, gentlemen. First, the box must remain occupied in order to travel. Second, at no time can your box completely leave the ground or slide more than a foot.  Rolling is the only form of approved movement.  Third, air holes are a must.  We don’t want a repeat performance of the CPR incident.”

“Totally worth it,” Ed interrupts with a nonchalant shrug.

“Fourth,” Gabe continues, “if your box rips to the point of no longer being able to roll then the entire team is disqualified. Fifth, all teams get one hour to prep the box with duct tape, after that no additions.  Every heat will continue until the rider taps out or the box can no longer travel.  The winners of the first two heats will go head to head to crown the ultimate Box champion.” 

Looking between Inias and Cas, Dean worries aloud, “Who is getting in the box?”

He’s only vaguely relieved when Cas raises his hand. Inias adding, “With all his yoga stuff, Castiel is the best rider.”

“I’m not comfortable with stuffing my boyfriend into a box and taping it shut.” Dean scuffs his socked toe across the floor.  “We are not in that kind of relationship.”

Inias shoves Dean playfully. “Really? Pretty sure spanking has been put on the menu.”

“CAS?” Dean yells.  “What the hell man?”

The sweet innocent expression Cas shoots him totally melts all the shock and embarrassment away. Dean knew from the beginning that his life with Castiel will always be an open book to the brothers, but seriously, that doesn’t mean it's something he wants to hear in a joke.

“Gentlemen!” Gabriel calls out to get everyone’s attention.  “The teams have been chosen.  Benny and Kevin will be the Silver team.  Myself, Gadreel, and Samandriel are team Blue.  Frank, Marv, and Ed claim Brown and last but not least Dean, Castiel and Inias are Green.”

Each team receives a roll of duct tape matching their team color and a single pen.

“Garth will be our judge and timekeeper.” It’s only after Gabriel announces this that Dean notices the staff.  They are in the corner passing around cash, Cole and Ruby 1.0 on the phone discussing the event to unknown callers.

Dean whispers to Inias, “Are they betting?”

“Hell yes, last time Gordon cleared two hundred bucks on Box. Talley and Mosely are on the phone placing their wagers.”

“Jesus.” Dean is shocked.  “That seems a little unethical.”

“Meh, it’s a grey area. At least they let us play because this is the greatest game ever.” 

It’s hard not to get caught up in the thrill as Cas strikes a few interesting yoga poses to prepare for the Box.

Garth raises his hand, a stopwatch in the other. “Your one hour prep time starts …now.”

Benny and Marv’s teams jump to action, and yet not one Brotherhood ex-member moves other than stretching.

“Shouldn’t we start?” Dean queries his group.

Cas shakes his head, falling back into a backbend that causes Dean’s dick to twitch. He has always appreciated a flexible lover.

“See this is where strategy and experience comes into it. Over the many decades we have played Box, we have discovered that the one hour prep can be misleading.”  Inias crosses his arms calmly.  “If you put your rider in to soon, then you risk them freaking out or destroying the box, instead waiting until the last thirty minutes keeps everything fresh and new.”

“Makes sense actually,” Dean concurs, not to mention he still needs to warm up to the idea of stuffing Cas in a box. All the boxes are the same size but not that big, like it’s going to take some weird pretzel thing to get a grown ass man inside.  “While we have the time tell me what’s best to do.”

Inias nods, speaking in a hushed tone for only Dean to hear. “Cas gets in, leaving the flaps open; we work on air holes using the pen.  Then in the last 15 minutes we close it up and duct tape the box in a cross pattern until time is called.”

Tapping Castiel’s arm, Dean muses, “Isn’t this going to hurt?”

Cas grins brightly, jerking his head in agreement. When in Rome, Dean decides as he helps his roommate with a few of his more intricate moves.  After a while Garth announces the thirty minute halfway point, and suddenly the entire room becomes a flurry of activity.

Once Cas is comfortably in the box, Inias and Dean begin the process of picking just the right spots for air holes. At the 15 minute mark, Dean gives Cas a good luck kiss, tucking the chain with his mom’s ring into Castiel’s shirt.   The guy was not going to take it off regardless of choking hazard.  Next Inias tapes the shit out of the box, being mindful of the necessary holes.

They finish with three minutes to spare, and Dean can’t help himself jumping around the room, “What’s in the box? What’s in the box?”  He shouts the last one even louder, “What’s in the box?”  Then falling on the top he answers his own question while hugging cardboard, “My boyfriend.”

A finger slithers out of one of the holes and Dean can’t help but kiss it.

“You two are disgustingly sweet,” Inias huffs as he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t like it? God gave you eyelids for a reason, use them.”  He then speaks into the box, “Cas you good?”

The same finger wiggles up and down in affirmative.

After a random number pull, Dean’s team is in the first heat against Benny and Kevin. Carefully both groups roll the boxes out into the hall where the course has been prepared by Cole and Gordon.  A neon yellow line of duct tape sits at each end of the hall.  The teams must push their boxes end over end until they reach the far yellow line then turn and return down the same path, never pausing for more than a count of five or it will be considered a form of tapping out.

Pivoting to face Inias, Dean exclaims, “You realize this is totally insane?”

His eyes wild with adrenaline, Inias replies, “Yep.”

“Ready …” Garth screams, “Set …Go!”

Dean has one job, aiding Inias in keeping the box moving forward and straight. Several laps later Dean’s exhausted, but the repetitive nature of the game is actually kind of soothing.  It’s not until he hears a loud CRASH that Dean notices how off track Benny has taken Kevin.  The box has slammed into a door, swinging it open as a soft, pathetic “Ow” leaves the interior of the cardboard.

Benny is trying to get their team back on the track as Garth countdown, “Five, four, three, two, one!”

Leaping with joy, Inias gloats, “We win!”

Making sure to not overly rock the boat, Dean and Inias push Cas off the course to wait until the final round. Dean’s trying to figure out how to let Cas out for a break when Inias slaps his hand.

“No Dean, he’s gotta stay in until the very end. The other teams had to wait while we did ours.”

Suddenly the box with Cas inside is rocking and shimming violently. Which really amps up Dean’s desire to rip open the top and check on his boyfriend.  “What’s happening?”

“Stop being such a mother hen, your roomie is just finding a comfortable position. We probably left him on his head.”

“Yeah, that’s not reassuring me at all,” Dean sulks, tapping on the side. Again a finger comes out to nod an okay, helping Dean to breathe easier.

Garth calls the start of the next round, and Dean watches with mild interest. He finds his hand petting the cardboard with a need to caress tattoo covered flesh and not the dry brown material.  Hannah’s words of warning are ringing in his ears, furthering his need for Cas.  All too soon the love of his life will go truly silent for a time.  Actually, Dean discovers knowing in advance is a gift allowing him the chance to prepare mentally and physically for the weeks ahead. 

A list, that’s what needs to happen. Make a list of things he wants to do with Cas before the shit storm begins.  He glances up, observing the two battling boxes roll on by as he wracks his brains for the most important moment he wants.  The picture of the Vaseline jar on his goal chart comes to mind, releasing a crimson hue to Dean’s cheeks.  His skin catching fire with the vision of lying naked under Cas writhing in utter erotic bliss.

“Jesus,” Dean hisses, adjusting his jeans a bit.

Desire is building inside him as Dean realizes how much he hungers for Castiel. The feel of Cas touching him, the sensation of Cas inside him.  Actually strike that, he doesn’t need a list honestly there would only be one item on it.

Popping his head up while the light bulb shines on the darkest recesses of Dean’s mind, he understands exactly what he wants before the chance dissipates. He loves Cas, Cas loves him, what the hell are they waiting for?  They can totally make this happen later tonight.  Angling towards the closest air holes, Dean lays it all on the line, hoping to give his lover a little taste of what’s to come.

“Hey Cas,” Dean sighs, not really expecting an answer. “I need you.  Tonight after we win this, I want you to strip me naked and slide those amazing hands all over me.  Touch everything I have to give and using our Vaseline, open me up.”  The box shakes and shimmies for a bit then settles down so Dean can finish.  Placing his fingers inside a few of the holes grazing against what might be a nose.  “I want to scream your name until my throat goes raw.  Then have you slide that delicious cock inside me.  Riding me hard and wet until I’m filled to the brim with your seed, claiming what’s always been yours.”

Dean’s fairly impressed with himself. The low growls radiating from the box tell Dean that his boyfriend agrees.  Who knew he could rock the dirty talk so well?  However, he was not expecting the Hulk impression from Cas as he tears through the cardboard like it's tissue paper.  The action scares the shit out of Inias so badly he flies forward, smacking into the competing box that holds Samandriel inside.  The two topple over, ripping a corner of the box, basically eliminating their team.

“WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK, INIAS?” Gabriel roars.

A second later Frank and Ed have come to the conclusion that this means they won and are screaming it to the rafters. Chaos ensues with hollering and bellows galore; the staff stands slack jawed since clearly no one bet on them.  The brothers are giving murderous glances to everyone involved.  He has no time to reply as Cas manhandles Dean towards their room.

Calling over Cas’s shoulder, Dean explains, “I’m his watermelon.”

Confusion is evident to all except Gabriel, Gadreel, Inias and Samandriel. All four men smile warmly as Gabe waves them off.  “Finally!”

The door slams shut, Cas locking them in tight.

“Couldn’t wait even one hour?” Dean jests, tossing his clothes haphazardly around the room. Naked, that’s his primary goal.  Castiel shakes his head, staring so hard at the strip tease he’s having trouble locating the Vaseline tub. 

Taking a deep inhale, Dean waits for Cas to get his shit together. They can have this tonight.  Let the darkness come.  Maybe Hannah is right, and the thaw will bring pain and sorrow.  He and Cas will survive it in the end because Dean has faith.  Love isn’t about the happily ever after; nope, it’s about holding onto each other through the brokenness and harshness of life.

Absolute lust and desire are written across his lover’s face as Castiel holds up the Vaseline jar with pride. Dean grins as he asks, “How do you want me?”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Box is a real game. I grew up playing Box with my cousins every family gathering.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for reading and as always I live for your wonderful comments and questions.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	21. Take My Breath Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! I'm posting super early because I've got a crazy day tomorrow and if I don't post by a certain time some readers will think I'm dead.
> 
> XOXOXO-  
> Angie

* * *

 

 

Sharp blue eyes graze over Dean’s bare flesh while he stands between their beds, facing Cas as he hovers by the locked door.  The air in the room is suddenly charged with an electricity that’s radiating off each man.  Dean shivers, the dryness in his throat making it difficult to swallow.  He’s never been the sole focus of anyone.  It’s almost like Cas can actually see his soul shining brightly for only the angel.  Dean’s dick is halfway there, swelling on the intensity of those sapphire gems that could eat him alive.  His mind is screeching to a halt due to the fact that Dean has no clue what Cas wants other than to memorize every inch of him.

Clearing his throat does no good in hiding the squeak of nerves in his voice. “Hey, Cas. We can start anytime now buddy?”

A single finger rises, telling Dean to remain motionless in the middle of their room.  Castiel advances to Dean’s side, digging through the stuff on his desk.  Dean doesn’t even look, forcing his body to follow Cas’s every demand.  Eventually his angel returns, carrying one of the blindfolds from Meg.  He passes it to Dean with a curt nod.

“I don’t need this if I bottom; you only need to pull out the happy stick,” Dean quips, trying for funny and failing miserably.  He’s so God damn nervous he can’t even make a proper dick joke.

Castiel crosses his arms, shooting that ominous eyebrow upward.  Tingles of desire erupt over Dean’s body as he hastily complies.  Slipping on the blindfold, Dean understands a downside to this plan.  If he can’t see and Cas doesn’t talk, how the hell are they going to communicate?  A soft rustling noise drifts over from Cas’s exact location.  Dean’s unsure of what to do so he simply chews on his lip.  Anticipation rises like the heat on a blistering Texas summer day.

“Sweet Baby Jesus.”  Dean exhales as a tongue glides up his torso, pausing to lap at his nipples.

A ghosting touch moves along his arms, leaving a slew of goosebumps in its wake.  Desperately needing something to ground him, Dean reaches out, dragging his own fingers up a very naked thigh.  Oh Dear Lord in heaven above Cas took his clothes off.  Immediately Dean freezes his hands, terrified of touching a trigger that will ruin this moment.  Lips meet his, taking a gentle unhurried pace as Dean opens his mouth, inviting his lover inside. 

Long sensual fingertips wrap around his wrists, tugging them forward and encouraging Dean to continue his exploration of Castiel’s flesh. A moan slips from Dean’s throat as Cas deepens the kiss, simultaneously grasping the hunter’s ass to massage the taut muscle.  Without warning, Dean’s being spun around and guided to his hands and knees on the bed.  The crisp hospital sheets are cool against his sweaty palms.  His brain loses all control when Cas’s tongue returns to drag up Dean’s exposed hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  Dean pants, fisting the sheets to battle the demand to thrash and lean back into Castiel’s incredible mouth.

Never in his life has Dean felt so aroused and loved in the same breath.  The worship he is receiving from his angel’s tongue and the stroking of Cas’s hands rubbing his quaking thighs rip pleas from Dean that he’s never heard before.  An actual whimper slips from his mouth as Cas’s mouth leaves his ass wet and chilled by the air.

“Cas, Cas, Cas.  Please.”  Dean knows he sounds like an incoherent hot mess, but by God he needs more.

Very tentatively a lubed finger inches into his hole, shutting him up fast.  Dean would scream for faster and harder but that might let on to the fact that he’s been practicing by himself in the shower.  It was mainly to keep it nice and clean down there but also he was curious, so sue him.  Cas’s digit picks up the pace as it slip slides in and out of Dean’s entrance.

All modesty was out the window when Dean bent over letting Cas lick up his ass, so he yells for what he wants, “More Cas, add a finger.”

The second finger enters with a little more bite to it, but Dean’s so gone he leans back, fucking into his lover’s hand.  Castiel starts circling the digit inside him, which confuses Dean until those glorious fingertips touch a spot that will remain in infamy.  Every inch of Dean’s body lights up with the sensation as he shouts incoherent words to the mattress below.  His fingers start to feel numb from his never-ending fisting of the sheets.  When a third finger joins the rest his vision goes blurry from the ecstasy drumming over his body.  

Sweat is dribbling down Dean’s back, but Castiel takes it upon himself to lick up the moisture beading across his flesh.  The total adoration in his lover’s touch is more than Dean can handle.  This isn’t fucking, it’s not a quick romp in the sheets or two friends taking the edge off, no, this is something Winchester has never dreamed of in his many years of sexual prowess. 

Abruptly Dean’s ass is left empty, yet he doesn’t have time to complain before strong arms are flipping him onto his back.  Surprised is an outright understatement as he yelps like a 12-year-old girl.  Dean’s arms fling out in front of him in a defense tactic against the unknown. A very familiar cheek drifts by his hands, permitting Dean to calm in the wake of utter darkness.

The muscular torso of his lover drags against his own chest in a rhythmic motion, bolstering Dean’s instincts to wrap his legs around Cas’s waist.  He’s marveling at the erotic disaster he’s become as the skin on skin contact swirls Dean’s head round and round.

Lips that will always have the power to stop Dean’s breath cold dominate his in a gradual sultry kiss.  Dean’s swimming in bliss when Cas’s cock carefully enters him.  The slow movement gives Dean time to adjust to the intrusion.  There is a touch of burn; however, Dean’s brain is astray in everything else. The discomfort simply hides behind the pleasure.

Cas kisses Dean like he’s special, his lover’s hands reverently caressing his body like he’s a treasure and the way Cas thrusts into him reminds Dean that he is loved.

The thought settles into his bones until Dean can’t help but speak it aloud.  “I love you, Cas.”

Quickly Dean lowers his hand between them to stroke his own leaking, needy erection.  His wrist movement matching Cas’s hips is creating total awesomeness. 

A voice gruff and gravelly from lack of use mutters into Dean’s ear.   “I love you, Dean.”

Those four words spoken with such raw emotion push Dean over the edge.  He’s panting and screaming as his orgasm bursts through him, covering both their chests with his cum.  A few more thrusts later and Castiel gives Dean exactly what he asked for.  Cas’s seed is filling him up, claiming him from the inside.

The silent space is consumed by the heavy breathing from the men as they both gradually return from their mutual high.  Dean’s not sure what to do next.  The blindfold remains in place, keeping him at Cas’s will.  Releasing his limp cock, Dean tickles his way up his lover’s torso that hovers above him, a chuckle his only clue that Cas can feel his touch.  The intent is playful and loving, but everything changes when Dean forgets what the top of his boyfriend’s abs reveal.  Over the last several minutes Dean has become acquainted with the random bump of a scar, yet what his fingers caress now is quite different.

Castiel’s body goes rigid the second Dean’s touch meets the word etched into his lover’s flesh.  Unfortunately it takes a beat for his mind to formulate what he’s hit and now the damage is done.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, an edge of terror to the name.

They both remain utterly frozen in the aftermath of the collision, Dean’s fingertips still maintaining the contact.  What the fuck can he do now?  There is no turning back; they have reached the point where Dean has to ask the question that’s been burning in his mind for weeks now, ever since he glimpsed the word _Obey_ across Castiel’s upper stomach.  

Dean’s voice is gentle and kind as he asks, “What happened?”

His fingers move adeptly, tracing the word so there is no mistaking his intention.  Dean’s not sure what he expected Cas to do, but jumping off him and dashing to the bathroom was not it.  The bang of the door shutting harshly behind his boyfriend startles Dean as much as the cold air settling on his cum stained belly.

Not wanting to upset Cas further, Dean refuses to move from his spot.  He drops his traitorous hands to the side and lies on the bed.  With no ability to see, the mistake of moments ago replays on a torturous loop in his mind.  Tears are flowing down his cheeks as the pain of what he’s done cuts him deep.  Once again Dean ruined the best thing in his life.  Dean doesn’t want Cas to hear his crying, so he focuses on keeping his gasps of air silent as the sobs continue. 

Violently trembling, Dean ignores his instinct to curl up in the fetal position.  The straining of his body is agonizing, yet he won’t move.  A cruel punishment of aching sore muscles and gaping ass isn’t enough for what he did, but Dean will take it. His teeth are rattling between his pathetic hiccups and silent wails.  Dean’s mind is circling the drain with stress.  If this is the end he has no one else to blame but himself.  Dean crossed the unspoken line and for what?  The answer to a question he probably already knows.

The blindfold lifts, giving him a serious start.  Blinking profusely, Dean permits his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room.  A wet washcloth cleans the salty tears from his cheeks before falling down to wipe away the sticky cum.  The rag drops to the floor.   Familiar arms tug him upward into a skin on skin embrace.  Dean can’t subdue the quaking of his body or the full on bawling from his mouth. 

Castiel came back.  Castiel still wants him. 

His boyfriend put on his pants but left his bare chest open.  Fingertips glide up and down Dean’s spine. Cas softly shooshes into his ear.  Steadily the crying peters out and the shaking calms, his chest leaning further into the warm body of his lover.  Dean is wrecked with guilt as he begs, “Please forgive me, Cas.  I am so sorry.  Don’t hate me.”

His boyfriend tilts back just far enough so their eyes can finally meet.  The handsome face staring back at him is full of confusion.  Cas shakes his head glancing at the desk.  It’s clear that Castiel desperately wants to write out his response, silently voicing his side of events to leave nothing for Dean’s twisted interpretation.  However, the idea of Cas removing his heat from Dean’s skin would be excruciating.  Hoisting his tired arms, Dean cinches them around Cas, holding firmly. 

“You can tell me later,” he mouths into Cas’s neck, nuzzling his nose into the crook.  “I don’t need words right now; I need you.”

Dean wakes gradually, his eyes fluttering open.  He didn’t even realize he had dozed off.  The two men haven’t moved, Dean is still the center of Cas’s hug.  Rolling over slightly, Dean tugs Cas on top of him and opens his thighs so his lover can slide between.  The smile from his boyfriend is radiating so much love it’s blinding.

Cas snatches something from the floor, his hand raising the silver chain with his Mom’s ring dangling between his fingers.  Obviously his lover had removed it.   The ring would have been a distraction during the throes of passion, smacking the shit out of Dean’s face.  Taking it gently into his own fingers, Dean puts it back where it belongs around Cas’s neck.

“Good or bad, we are always,” Dean declares, tapping the silver band into place.

Nodding, Cas strokes Dean’s chin.  Dean scans down the silver chain to where the ring rests just above the horrid word on Cas’s skin.  Hastily Dean regrets this move, shooting his focus back to his lover’s face, but damn it he’s been caught.  Dean’s about to whisper an apology when Cas grabs Dean’s hand, placing his fingers on the melted flesh. Deciding that it's Castiel’s turn to be coddled, Dean sits up and yanks Cas into straddling his lap.

“Your turn for some TLC.”  Dean winks, tenderly kissing his lover.

Dean trails chaste kisses down the scruff of Castiel’s neck, listening as his boyfriend hums in approval.  Continuing his love assault, Dean suckles into that dangerously erotic collarbone.  Jesus, he tastes amazing.  Inhaling deeply, he keens in his own happy purr.  Everything about Cas is perfect.  Dean goes slowly, switching between kisses and licks as he works his way to the heart of the matter.  When his mouth grazes the top of the _O_ Cas gasps, shivering.  Dean doesn’t have a clue if the reaction is scared or thrilled, glancing up to search Cas’s features and noticing the debauched look on his lover’s face. 

“I love everything about you …” Dean sighs, trying to find the right words to inform Cas just how much he means to him, “and you love me.”

Cas nods, their gaze never breaking.

Carefully Dean drops a kiss to each etched letter.  “Nobody cares that you’re broken, Cas.”

Seeking out Cas’s mouth, Dean relaxes as their lips lock into a deep, passionate kiss.  Eventually, they separate, yet Dean still snuggles his nose against Cas’s.  “We are all broken in some way.  The marks on your body will always be there just like the deep scars on your mind.  They will never truly go away, and that’s okay.  I only see my handsome angel, who is perfect for me.  Everyone else can fuck off.”

The two men entangle their limbs, lounging across the mattress.  A genuine smile plays on Cas’s lips.  Lying nose to nose sharing each other’s breath, Dean can’t seem to stop talking.

“Back when I was a kid I had this beat up bike my Dad found at a garage sale.  It fit nicely in the trunk of the Impala, so he let me keep it.  We carted that rusted old thing all around the country for years.  Whenever life got rough at home, Dad drunk, Sam and I fighting, that bike was my only escape.  For just an hour I was free.  Pumping my legs till they hurt so I could feel the wind whip past my face, that was when I truly felt like I could breathe.  Then I got too old, and the bike was tossed in a dumpster.  My heart broke that day.”

Dean twists his left arm, showing a small bicycle wheel on the inside of his wrist.  Cas traces the black ink as Dean returns to the story.

“I never thought I would ever have that feeling again.  My heart racing, my skin tingling with excitement, my mind clear of the junk from my Dad, inhaling the smell of fresh air it was like an unattainable dream.  That is until I met you, Cas.”

His lover’s eyes jerk up to meet his at the sound of his name. 

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.  You make me free again.”

The kiss this time says everything Cas can’t.  Dean is special, needed, and loved.  He knows in the back of his mind they still need to discuss the coming thaw.  Hiding from this will only cause them both pain, and Cas deserves better, hell he wants better too.  However, Dean can’t bring himself to destroy the serene scene he’s fallen into.  He’s got time.  Perhaps that conversation is better to have in the confines of their journaling anyway, allowing Dean hard evidence in black and white that Cas does love him, and together they can face the harshness of the melting snow. 

They fall asleep with Dean’s lips resting on Cas’s forehead completely surrounded by peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions and odd tales are highly encouraged.
> 
> And yes I like cheesy 80s songs. : P


	22. Of Balls and Cuts

* * *

 

_Dear Dean,_

_Writing has always been my voice. The chance to tell those I love what’s on my mind and how much they mean to me.  Today, I feel for the first time in my life I can’t find the words.  There isn’t a thesaurus wide enough, a dictionary large enough to hold the proper word that describes how much I love you.  Therefore, I will take a page from your own entries in our journal: primrose love.  Eternal may be the closest thing that the limitations of the English language will allow me.  Permanent, everlasting, infinite, unceasing, indestructible, enduring, relentless, unending, these all could be used to label the type of love I have for you, but it still falls short._

_Last night we made love for the first time. God, Dean, being connected to you in that manner was breathtaking.  The vulnerability you showed by allowing me the privilege to touch you so deeply was beyond incredible.  I love sex.  Clearly Gabriel wasn’t lying when he spoke of its ability to blow your mind.  That’s what happened as I left my seed within your body.  Honestly, for several minutes after I’m not sure I could have told you my own name._

_I am sorry the anxiety brought up when you touched my chest ruined our beautiful moment. You did nothing wrong but caress skin that craves simply that; your constant touch.  The running away was undignified and cowardly, but I needed a moment to collect myself alone.  I was frightened.  Not from you asking about the burns to my skin but from the memories the scars dredge up.  You deserve answers.  When we began this journal I promised that on these pages I would hide nothing from you.  All I can ask is for your forgiveness in this one lie.  I have never written about the events that led to the word on my chest.  Even my brothers are unaware.  I will tell you one day Dean, I promise._

_Please understand that I’m not ready to re-open that cut just yet._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_You don’t have to apologize for not telling me about the scars on your stomach. That story is one we will get to eventually.  I plan on forever with you, man, so we’ve got time.  My words may not be so frilly and smart, but I’m saying the same thing.  I love you Cas, no matter what._

_Mind blowing sex? Couldn’t remember your own name?  Damn clearly I am one hell of a bottom. ; )  By the way you, my friend, are amazing in bed.  You rocked my world, big boy.  Also, let the record show that yes, your cock will be asked to do a repeat performance on many, many, many occasions._

_Since discussing the scar is off the table, can I ask you another tough question? If you don’t want to answer I totally understand.  You always have the right to deny me, Cas.  There will never be any hard feelings as we push boundaries that haven’t been touched in years.   Telling me certain walls need to remain in place for a bit longer is okay.  In fact I am proud when you say no.  I am your lover, Cas, in a relationship that is set on equality, without hearing no every once in a while I worry that you aren’t respecting your own needs as well as mine.  No is not a bad word._

_Now for the question: What will happen when the snow melts? Hannah told me.  Yet, she is not you and doesn’t know us as a couple.  Tell me, Cas.  I need to know._

_Love you._

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_Your need to make me comfortable in this relationship is admirable. Outside of my brothers no one has cared for me like you do.  I comprehend your trepidation in asking me a question, but please don’t.  I like knowing.  The queries you share with me help uncover what’s truly bothering you.  As you have stated many times over, Dean, you are a man of few words.  So please always feel free to ask as I will feel safe in the choice of not responding._

_I have shared with you how Hael died. As you are obviously aware, she passed just after the snow melted that year.  Every bone in my body wishes and hopes this year will be different.  That having the strength of your love by my side, I will not fall into the depths of despair.  However, we both know that’s partly fantasy.  I love you.  You love me.  These statements are factual and true.  But, sometimes the struggles with our mental health don’t care about our feelings for each other._

_The easiest answer to your question is, I don’t know. In past years I have spent weeks suffering from a dark depression, several prolonged catatonic states, and bouts of violent rage.  I worry less about myself but more about what this behavior will do to you._

_Please stay strong Dean. Remind yourself when I don’t have the energy to do it myself that you are my world.  I will return, I promise.  The shutting you out will not be about you.  The fits of anger I will chaotically wield are not directed at you.  These are guilt.  My mind becomes doused in shame as the memories of that fateful day rip me apart._

_When the worst of it rains down on us, I want you to repeat the following for me. Castiel loves me.  Castiel wants me.  Soon my Castiel will return._

_And if the mantra stops working, open to this page and read it. You are important to me Dean.  Never forget that but I have no clue what the coming onslaught of mental anguish will do to me or you.  I am terrified that when the dark clouds part I will have severed our profound bond forever._

_I have included some weapons for the coming battle with this entry. Enjoy!_

_You are the sun to my moon,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Dude Cas,_

_There are moments where I feel that we are preteens stumbling through a new found love. Receiving signs written in multi-color glitter definitely doesn’t help.  However, I will hang the mantras you have created on our wall.  I hope that they will help you too._

_Wait, I just found the “Daddy” sign. Yeah, that one is getting tucked in my underwear drawer …unless you have an urge to use it.  Nah just kidding …mostly._

_They set the date for my Dad's trial. Of course they have called me as a witness.  I don’t want to.  It just seems to me that the entire thing is all for show.  My Dad isn’t going to jail. He has too many friends in high places pulling strings for him.  Sam says I need to do it.  Dr. Shurley just reminds me that whatever I choose will be the right decision.  Ugh, how do I consciously choose to send my own father to prison?  It’s too much._

_What would you do?_

_No frills, I just love you._

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I can’t make the decision for you concerning your father. Nor will I tell you what I would do as you would interpret that incorrectly.  I want that man gone.  Have you toss him out on his derriere forever.  You don’t have to go through the emotional rollercoaster of a trial to do that, so I honestly don’t care.  What is the exact date?_

_Picture your father as Michael. What do you want to do now?_

_Well since this is my first relationship ever and, well, let’s be honest, your first one too, it is accurate to see it through the innocence of first time love. We live in a psychiatric hospital.  I think giving us some leeway on our gifts and activities is a must._

_Dean, I wouldn’t have made the sign if I wasn’t planning on using it. Glitter is a commodity around here so I would never waste such a treasure.  I enjoy seeing our love emblazoned in shiny wonderfulness.  It makes me smile._

_You seem to be enjoying your time spent with the GED tutor. She is very pretty._

_I love you immensely,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_CAS!_

_Oh My God! Please tell me you are not jealous of Charlie.  Yes, she is funny and nice.  We have a lot to talk about.  Her interest in everything Marvel along with Star Wars and Star Trek is awesome.  I like hanging out with her.  She makes learning fascinating and fun, which makes her a great teacher._

_Newsflash, Cas! I am in love with you, dumbass.  Not interested in anyone else.  They could parade a slew of Victoria Secret models and_ _Chip n Dale dancers and I wouldn’t care.  I want you, end of story.  Also, Charlie is 100% gay so my hot bod does nothing for her libido._

_Are you serious about the “Daddy” sign??_

_There is no doubt in my mind that if I ran into Michael in a dark alley. He would end up dead.  You have such incredible control over your anger.  I on the other hand would just let my temper fly.  That man did unspeakable things to you. He stole so much, and I wouldn’t be able to stop swinging until I heard the sputtering of his last bloody breath.  Sorry if it’s a little over descriptive, but I think about that moment a lot._

_I would protect the man I love._

_The trial has been set for April 20 th.  Still haven’t decided what I want to do, but Sam has made it crystal clear that if I choose not to testify my Dad will most likely walk.  _

_I was wondering when you might be up for sex again. No pressure, but I would really really really like to do that again!_

_Your spectacular lover,_

_Dean ; )_

_\------_

_~~TO THE MAN GIVING IT TO MY BROTHER~~ : (sorry I was just corrected)_

_TO THE MAN TAKING IT FROM MY BROTHER:_

_You two need to quit your belly aching and fuck with wild abandonment. Signs and girly words are only going to help so much.  Going at it like bunnies until you’re too sore to move is the only way to go my friend._

_Holy Shit, you guys whine more than toddlers before a nap. I should know I helped raise the lot of you.  Yes, the next month will be a pain in the ass.  But guess what?  Nobody gives a flying fuck because that’s next month.  You have weeks, days and way more hours than I can count to pound the ever living crap out of each other._

_Stop worrying and live! You know what, life is too short for stressing over shit that you have no control over.  Be happy, fuck often, and love more.  (Damn that should be on a t-shirt).  I want to hear complaints from the staff for your loud sexcapades.  No one should halt the love train, especially the people who are lucky enough to be on it._

_Dean! Surprise, Castiel has a mild Daddy kink.  Please tickle and spank him till he can’t breathe from giggling.  Also, testify against your Dad.  Trust me the regret of not doing something is way worse than failure at trying._

_Castiel! Fuck that boy until your dick turns blue.  Dean’s not going anywhere no matter what happens during the thaw.  Please, you two are already an old married couple that can easily shit in front of each other without denting the romance._

_On another note, I want to see the plans for my new house!_

_Love you both even when you’re morons,_

_Gabriel (the most awesome brother in the world)_

_PS – No I did not read your precious love notes. Castiel was whining in a letter to me so I took matters into my own hands._

_\------_

_Dean,_

_I apologize profusely for Gabriel’s hijacking of our journal. He only looked at the blank page the note was written upon.  Unfortunately, he said if I tore it out he would duct tape my balls to my leg; having experienced this once before I am unwilling to go against him.  I still have one testicle that is slightly larger due to trauma._

_Also, he may have a point about the Daddy kink. I would prefer more tickles to spanks._

_Please don’t be angry._

_Castiel_

_PS – Please explain Chip n Dale? I am not sure how Disney woodland creatures are sexy._

_\------_

_Hey Cas,_

_Wait! What the fuck?  Let me be the judge of your junk man.  I am very glad your balls were able to recover because I enjoy them a lot; further inspection will be necessary.  Don’t worry I would never take a threat from Gabriel lightly.  Actually, he’s not wrong.  We could spend the time bracing for impact or unbuckle our seatbelts and get it on till the crash._

_There is a part of me that’s nervous to start anything with you. I keep feeling like I need you to take the lead so I don’t do something wrong.  This is where the no talking thing sucks.  Putting all the coupons and signs aside, I need to know how to approach you.  Maybe, I can’t.  It’s okay if you need to be the one in charge for a while.  As long as I’m getting to ride that massive cock I’m a happy camper._

_Chip n Dale dancers the male strippers, NOT Chip and Dale the Disney characters. They are two completely different things, and for the love of God don’t mix that up again.  The dancer versions are very hot, muscular men with little to no clothing dancing on stage for mostly screaming girls.  Don’t worry, they’ve got nothing on my sexy boyfriend._

_Anywho I guess my question is …what should I do when I want sex?_

_Tickling sounds like a lot of fun._

_Love,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_Many times you have mentioned the equality of our relationship. How important it is that we maintain our level playing field.  Then no, it is not right for only me to encourage our physical relationship.  Dean, it’s actually quite simple.  You were able to ask when I was in the box.  What has changed?  Repeat after me, I would like sex now please._

_Dancing male strippers? I will have to consult the google.  Ignoring the links to Disney cartoons, I found that extremely disturbing._

_Well now I feel the need to show you how much I enjoy our copulation._

_\------_

_Damn Cas!_

_Who knew fucking up against the bathroom sink could be so hot? Although I am pretty certain we came close to breaking the damn thing.  Not sure I could look Garth in the eyes and explain that one.  Jesus, glimpsing our reflection in the mirror as you slammed into me was …intense.  Man, I got to say you have one hell of a seriously sexy fucking face._

_After close inspection, I have to concur that your left nut is ever so slightly larger than the right. I will just have to suck on the right one till they are even.  The problem is access to the entire ball area.  How can we lose the pants?  I know there are scars, but what makes these different?_

_I hate to say Gabriel was right, but he was. This is a much better way to spend our time.  Let me be clear.  I always want sex._

_It’s late and you’re asleep next to me doing those tiny kitten snores. It’s just adorable.  My heart is so full of love in this moment it's overflowing, making me smile like an idiot.  Wow, I may need to change a tire or something manly.  This must be what Sam feels like all the time._

_Did you google Chip n Dale dancers? Get any fun ideas?_

_I love you and your mis-sized nuts,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I am so glad that my lopsided testicles do nothing to distract you from performing excellent fellatio. The suggestion of sucking my testicle till they even out may not have any merit but I am willing to try, for science, of course._

_Although, the scars to my torso are the worst in medical terms, the scars to my inner thighs embarrass me the most. Unlike the others, those were put there by me. We have discussed this before that at particularly low times in my life I have resorted to self-harm. I am perfectly aware that you know they are there and that they will not hinder your love for me.  However, even having to scrub them when I bathe makes my stomach turn with shame.  I ask so much patience from you, Dean, but once again I must ask it again.  Currently I need my thighs to remain covered but am open to ideas on how to find a compromise.  You excel at bargaining._

_It seems you are very much mistaken Dean, I do not snore. Nor am I ever adorable._

_Yes, I was able to google the Chip n Dale dancers with Inias’ help last night. There are several ideas permeating in my mind.  Don’t worry, you will like them._

_Forever and a day cannot be long enough. I will love you always,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Hi Cas,_

_So I’ve been chewing on the thigh issue. What if we made like sleeves for your upper thighs?  I bet we could find some stretchy material in a dark color and sew some nice covers for you to wear.  Win, win for both of us.  Your scars would still be invisible, and I get more glorious Cas skin.  We could ask Missouri, she likes to knit._

_Just call me Mr. Compromise. Actually don’t, that just sounds wrong._

_Charlie (I know, your fave person) found a really cool builder that is based in St. Paul but is willing to take on our massive house. Turner Construction, the owner is also an architect who can help us with designing it.  I’m thinking we build the bigger house with them and then I will build our cabin by myself.  Maybe learn a little from the guy and stuff.  He’s also agreed to come visit us to get the design started.  Then once I’m out the ground breaking and building can start.  I want to be a part of it every step of the way.  What do ya think?_

_I noticed the snow melting today, so maybe we should wait until May._

_I love you,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_March always brings the warm weather. I can sense the foreboding rolling off you in waves every time we step outside and the snow reverts to slush._

_It will be alright Dean. No matter what, I love you.  However, I agree perhaps Mr. Turner should schedule his visit in May.  He is a brave man to take on our family. Let's not frighten him off at the first meeting._

_The thigh sleeves are an excellent solution. You, my love, are a brilliant, creative, and wonderful man.  While we are on the internet ordering the material we should look into a little bow tie and collar.  Perhaps, we should take a moment to create some happy memories for this time of year.  ;)  Maybe lady luck will shine on us and this year will be different._

_I have hope my love,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_It seems we used up all our luck in finding each other._

_I miss you._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Have an awesome day my sweet readers. As per usual comments and questions are my personal form of crack.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	23. Echoing the Rain

* * *

 

 

The massive window in Shurley’s office feels cold under Dean’s palm.  He knows that the doctor asked him a question, but Dean’s mind is astray with thoughts of Cas.  Rain pours down just outside the glass, stripping away the last of the snow.  The thaw is here and Hannah wasn’t exaggerating, all but one of the brothers collapsed under the pressure.

 Samandriel’s depression took him out first.  It started with refusing to eat, then picking fights with the staff, now Samandriel hasn’t been out of his room in days.  Next Ezekiel came to visit and hasn’t left.  At least Gadreel’s other personality keeps him up and about.  Dean actually thought Cas had a real chance, but three days ago he awoke alone.  At some point over the night Castiel chose to move to the other bed.  He’s not catatonic, not yet, but he hasn’t looked Dean in the eye in 48 hours.  The sorrow is threatening to take Dean down with them all.  Gabriel’s manic behavior hit an all-time high, forcing the staff to heavily medicate him.  The strong eldest brother slumps around the hall only a shell of the man Dean admires.  Inias is quiet but more from exhaustion trying to help his brothers.  Dean wonders if Inias stays simply because he has nowhere else to go?

“Dean, I need you to answer me.  How has Castiel’s mental health affected you?”  Dr. Shurley requests from his desk, his hands clasped waiting for Dean’s reply.

Leaning forward, Dean rests his forehead on the glass.  His response comes out in a hushed broken tone, “He stopped writing in his journals.  He won’t look at me.  I’m lost again.”

“That is a common occurrence around this time of the year.  You need to not take it personally.”

A pitiful huff leaves Dean’s mouth.  Every bone in his body belongs to Cas, how does he not take this shit personally?  “He still interacts with Inias and the Rubys.”  Dean doesn’t have the strength to censor his mouth as he spits out angrily, “I’m just expendable.”

“Dean.”  Shurley’s tone is curt and controlled, catching Dean in his downward spiral.  “Do you honestly believe that?”

“No, it just stings.”  Actually ripping his soul out is more accurate, but sting seems less ridiculous.  In the back of his mind where logic resides a tiny voice calls out "Castiel loves you.  Castiel wants you.  Your Castiel will return." 

“Are you up to discussing your mother?”  The psychiatrist mentions, scribbling into his ever present notebook.  “She’s been off limits for a while now.”

The aching in Dean’s chest makes it difficult to inhale, yet he doesn’t care.  Not breathing sounds rather pleasant these days.  “Sure, let’s toss some vinegar on the wound.”

“It sometimes helps to focus on another tough topic when nothing can be done about the other.  Let’s be frank here, Dean.  Castiel is the only one who can change his current state.”

“I know my hands are tied, but really, my Mom?”  He’s pressing his forehead so harshly into the glass it’s starting to hurt.  Slamming his fist against the pane, he pushes back, spinning to face his doctor as he chokes out, “So ask.  What do you want to know?”

“Had any nightmares specifically about your mother lately?”

The soft carpeting of the doctor’s office calls to Dean so he opts to squat down by the window, leaning back against the glass.  Dragging his fingers through the fibers, Dean mumbles, “Last night I had a dream that she was still alive.  She invited Cas over for dinner so she could meet my new boyfriend.”

Dr. Shurley scratches at his beard thoughtfully. “That sounds like a nice dream, not a nightmare at all.”

“It was.”  His mind recalls the vision of Mary embracing Cas. “The nightmare happened when I woke to a boyfriend who ignores me and a dead Mom.”

“Noticing a similarity?”  Shurley asks as he comes around from his desk to join Dean on the carpet.

Dean’s head shoots up in surprise, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The doctor picks some lint off his wrinkly black dress pants.  “Dean, I’m fairly certain your brain has made a connection at least subconsciously.  Do us both a favor and say it out loud.”

“No,” Dean whispers.  Yes, he made the connection lying in his bed after the first dream starring his two favorite people in the world.  And yet there is something about saying it to another person that gives the fear a stronger grip on his reality.  “I can’t let it be real.”

“I also think you are wrong, at least on some of the more critical points.”

Shurley just sits on the floor, legs crisscross, looking at Dean and waiting for him to reveal his worst fear.  Dean doesn’t care what the shrink thinks, he knows he’s not wrong.  “The people I love find it easy to leave me.”

“Like I said, Dean, you are completely incorrect.  But we’ve got some time so let’s hash this out.  Who do you want to start with, Cas or your Mom?”

Suddenly the carpet becomes enthralling as Dean gives it his full attention.  The room sits in this electric silence as the doctor serenely waits for an answer.  “Cas,” Dean spits out through gritted teeth.

“Okay, how has he left you?”  Shurley waves his hand out in a questioning manner.  “He hasn’t requested a room transfer, and last time I checked he was still wearing your ring.  Explain to me how you came to the conclusion that he’s left you?”

“There is this huge dead space between us.  It’s like living with a ghost; yeah, he putters around and I can hear him, but I’m still alone with no one to touch, to talk to, and the pain is unbearable.”

“Have you confronted him about it?”

“Have I …” Dean worries that Dr. Shurley is losing his mind.  “Cas is barely keeping it together.  I’m not that big of an asshole to dump my shit on top of that.”

Leaning back to rest his weight on his hands, the doctor tilts his head side to side like he’s weighing out Dean’s comment.  “What if he thinks he’s doing the same by staying away?”

“I’m sorry but you have lost me.”  Dean shakes his head to clear the cobwebs of doubt. “What?”

“Maybe, you are both struggling to make it on your own because you don’t want to be a bother.  I’m just saying wouldn’t it be really silly if you could fix it by just one of you stating the obvious.”

Now the man has Dean’s full and utmost focus, “And the obvious would be?”

A sly grin whispers onto Dr. Shurley’s mouth as he tilts forward.  “That this would be easier if you guys would just lean on each other.  Castiel misses his sister and is wallowing in guilt.  You miss your Mom and haven’t even begun to tap into the emotions with her suicide.”

Rage erupts from Dean, pushing him to shove the man across from him.  “I told you it wasn’t suicide!”

“Dean.”  Shurley contests, his tone firm and not even reacting to the push.

“IT WAS NOT SUICIDE!”  Dean screams so violently his throat is raw.  “I told you it was an accident, you agreed.”

Dr. Shurley has his game face on, schooling his features.  “I agreed that you believed it was an accident.  At the time you weren’t ready to face that truth.”

Jumping to his feet, Dean begins pacing, his mind reeling, “You think I’m ready now!  With all this crap raining down from Cas?”

“I do.”  The doctor also rises, moving back to his desk. “Would you like to read the coroner’s report?”

“How do you even …Sam.” 

Well of fucking course his smart ass baby brother the lawyer would hunt down and keep a copy of their mother’s coroner’s report.  Dean’s never had even an inkling to peruse that particular document.  Why would he?  He was there and remembers it in crystal clear detail.

Scrunching his nose in disgust, Dean scours, “I don’t care what it says.  Reports are wrong all the time.  Trust me I’ve seen more than one innocent man go to court because of a crappy report.”  He turns to glare at the doctor. “I thought we were talking about Cas?”

“I’m simply encouraging you to follow your own train of thought.  It would appear that Castiel’s battle with his past is bringing out some of your own unresolved issues.”  Shurley shrugs, “I could be wrong.”

His stomach is tightening to the point Dean might vomit.  God, he has no desire to talk about any of this …but Dr. Shurley isn’t off the mark.  Lately he has found himself thinking about his mother’s death.  Originally he blamed it on all his free time without Cas to distract him.  Now, he’s really confused by it all.

Gradually Dean slinks over to the edge of Shurley’s desk.  His head hung low in defeat, “Can you give me the cliff notes version?”

“Do you trust me enough to interpret the data for you?”

Finding his throat suddenly dry, Dean coughs a couple times before replying,  “One day I will read it on my own, but yeah I trust you.”

“There was an extremely high dosage of valium found in your mother’s stomach along with a blood alcohol level of .21.  It was the coroner’s opinion that Mary could not have accidentally ingested so much of both the valium and alcohol.  She chose this, Dean.”

Tears are running down his face as Dean stumbles over the next few words.  “My mom chose to bail on my brother and me.”

“Mary Winchester was mentally ill, Dean.  She had been battling clinical depression for several years.  Unfortunately back then the medical community did very little to help housewives that just seemed a little blue.”

Dean flinches when the doctor appears right in front of him, patting his shoulder.  When did the guy move?  However, Dean doesn’t have the will power to shove him off; his need for any physical contact pounding in his skin.

Shurley breaks the silence, “Your father was gone all the time with work, leaving her alone with no support system.  This isn’t on you, Dean.”

“Yes it is. My Mom tucked us in that night just like normal.  She kissed us, read us stories and sang …” Dean hiccupping on the next two words, “Hey Jude.  The entire time with a glass of wine in her hand and I said nothing.”

“Dean you were 6 years old.  Do you blame Sam?”

His head spins with bewilderment, “He was fucking 2!  How in the hell could anyone blame a toddler?”

“And yet you are blaming a 1st grader?  Tell me the logic in that.”  Shurley’s hand remains on his shoulder, a grounding touch in all the madness.

Never in his adult life has Dean ever wavered in his belief that his mother’s death was an accident.  Why was he so certain that the heavy drinking had caused her to forget how many pills she was swallowing?  John… of course his father was the one to plant the seed in his head.  His father, the man who had blamed his 6-year-old son for the mess he found when he finally returned home.  The man who found a way to destroy any form of spirit in Dean’s life.  Of course …the king of denial himself cursed the child to a life of rejection that came from within.

Knowing what Dr. Shurley wants to hear Dean whispers, “I had no control over her death any more than I do now with Cas.”

“Good.”  The doctor steps back, putting space between them.  “You have to let go, Dean.”

Dean nods, he’s got nothing left to say.  He feels like his skin has been brutally scrubbed until it’s bleeding raw.  He’s sure that some might call this a breakthrough; Dean just sees the broken pieces of his life discarded at the bottom of a dumpster.

Dr. Shurley continues to talk but Dean’s done listening.  He doesn’t understand the need to "process" this mess that has become his life.  Instead he watches the rain.

*****

Dean stumbles into his room expecting to find his roommate tucked under the covers.  Cas spends a lot of his time hiding.  To Dean’s surprise the space is empty; the sound of rain slapping against the window rooting him to his spot.  His gaze drifts over the multi-colored glitter signs hanging above Dean’s bed.  They seem to taunt him.

_Castiel loves Dean_

_Castiel wants Dean_

_Castiel and Dean Forever_

An uncontrollable urge to write in their journal pushes Dean over to Castiel’s desk.  Maybe Dr. Shurley was right and the best way to talk with Cas is through their leather-bound love letters.  He yanks the notebook, swinging it wide as he crosses to his bed.  Something silver slips from between the pages, clattering to the black linoleum.  Dean’s heart wrenches as he regrets looking down. 

Glimmering against the dark floor is a silver chain with his mother’s ring attached.  Cas removed it.  The final straw has literally broken across his back, breaking Dean in two.  With nothing left to keep him upright, Dean plunges to the harsh linoleum; the stillness mocking him for his attempts at happiness.  His fingers curl around the chain, tears streaming over his face. 

Laughter from down the hall reminds him how easily someone could discover him in this pathetic state.  What if Cas found him?  Spread out on the floor crying like a fucking child.  Dean crawls to the bathroom, where he at least has the privacy of a door with a lock.  His fist is refusing to release the necklace.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean sits with his back against the door, bracing for another violent wave of sorrow crashing over his body.

“Dad was right,” Dean mumbles.

When Dean pitches the ring across the small room, it bounces harshly off the wall, skidding to a halt in front of the toilet.  Heat pummels Dean’s flesh, making it difficult to breathe.  His head continues to spiral round and round like he’s on a tilt-a-whirl.  A burning itch creeps along his body. Dean gulps air, trying to hold his head above the sinking sand.  It’s a losing battle. 

He just needs relief.  Anything will do because, God, he’s truly going crazy. Dean could swear the floor is morphing into a green color.  The thought slaps him hard.  Suddenly he can’t breathe, the blaze on his skin worsening. 

“Help me, help me,” Dean murmurs.

Everything hurts; no matter what he does the ache won’t go away.  Dean’s heart is empty with nothing left to fill it.  He tugs at his shirt, praying that giving his skin a break from the scratchy fabric will ease his discomfort.  Dean wobbles and weaves around the room, tossing his clothes all over the place.  

What is the point of loving someone?  All it ever brings is heartache.  Dean stumbles on his discarded jeans, falling to the linoleum.  Has it always been green?  Turning his head to the side Dean sees his mother looking down on him as though she were an angel.  She will bring peace.    Dean’s so tired he can’t even lift his head to look directly at her, but he knows she’s there.  Then the energy in the space flutters and Dean’s back in the kitchen staring at his mother’s corpse.

For a second his heart speeds up as the sweat dribbling down his body intensifies.  His hand planted firmly in hers reminds him that it’s not over, there is still a chance to save her. 

“Mom, wake up.” The glassy gaze from Mary’s eyes remains stoic.  “Mommy please don’t leave me here alone.”  No matter how much he yells, spits, and fights the corpse next to him stays silent. 

Darkness surrounds him, and in the time it takes to blink his mother is gone, replaced by a statuesque Castiel, those gorgeous blue eyes piercing him with a glare from beyond the grave.  Panic takes the wheel.  Dean’s wailing for his lover to return, but once again the body on the floor stays cold.

“Cas!  Cas!  Cas!  Cas!”  Dean boldly screams, his absolute worst nightmare in full color chilling him to the bone.

An unknown force is shaking him violently.  He pushes back watching as the dark hair vanishes.

“Cas, come back!”  Dean needs to hold his lover’s hand.  All can be well again if Dean can just touch Cas.  A smack to the face yanks him out of the hallucination as water from the sink is splashed on his face.  Dean stammers to comprehend what’s happening around him.  “What the fuck?”

Reality lurks just outside of Dean’s grasp; he swears that someone is calling his name.  Fixating on the person’s voice, Dean breathes deeply, attempting to gain control of his mind once more.  Several minutes later Dean blushes at his bizarre situation, and why the hell is he wet?

Dean reaches out, grasping a shoulder in front of him, his eyes finally able to concentrate on the face before him.  “What are you doing?”

“I could ask the same to you, Dean.”  He wishes the voice were gruff like the owner just swallowed a glass of sand.  It’s not.

Blinking, Dean leans forward until he’s nose to nose with the other man in the bathroom. “Inias?”

“The one and only,” Cas’s brother snips, holding out Dean’s underwear.  “Pants first, discussion later.”

He ignores the fabric, asking, “Why are you in my bathroom?”

 “I think the bigger question is why are you naked curled up on the toilet screaming for Castiel?  We all know you guys are kinky but this seems a bit over the top.”

“I’m not …” well fuck a duck Inias is right.  Dean is perching on the top half of the toilet butt ass naked and apparently yelling his boyfriend’s name.  “This can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen?”  Dean replies as he carefully extricates himself from his spot, taking the boxer-briefs and sliding them on.

“Nah, Gabriel has you beat by a long shot on the nut-o-meter.  But seriously, man, what is going on with you?”

Dean’s gaze betrays him as it drops to the silver ring still resting on the floor.  Inias gives him a sad pitiful look that makes Dean’s insides twist in knots.  Too exhausted to lie Dean offers up his ultimate trigger, “Castiel left the ring behind.”

“There has to be more, Dean,” Inias states, moving back to sweep a hand over the crowded bathroom.  “Please tell me this wasn’t just from –”

“My mom committed suicide,” Dean blurts out, his eyes wide with shock.  He slaps his hand over his mouth, but it’s too late. Dean said it out loud.

Without warning, Dean’s being pulled into a warm embrace.  Inias doesn’t do anything but hold Dean as a fresh set of tears pour from his eyes.  Dean has no idea why but he mutters, “I’m sorry,” over and over into Inias’s shoulder.  God, he wishes the arms could belong to Cas, but honestly any physical affection is heavenly.

Time seems to stop as Dean lets all the sorrow, rejection and anxiety spill out with each tear.  Finally the sobbing halts and Dean steps away.  “Thank you, Inias.  You didn’t have to stay.”

A serious expression locks onto the younger man’s face, “Yes, I did.  You are family, Dean, and we stick together through it all.”

“Just because I’m doing the nasty with Cas?”  Dean sneers. 

“No,” Inias replies, lifting his hand to pat Dean’s shoulder.  “Cas may be your lover but we all love you in one way or another.  Sorry, Dean, I guess we should have sent you a memo.”

“And what would the memo have said?”  He jokes because this heart to heart is a little hard to take in nothing but his underwear.

“'Welcome to the Brotherhood' in gold glitter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big hugs for all! Comments, questions and concerns are always a highlight of my day.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	24. Take my Broken Crown

* * *

 

Dean’s forgotten what day it is; in fact he’s only vaguely aware that it’s still March.  Days blend together with an empty, painful blur.  Cas keeping his distance is eating him slowly from the inside out.  His conversations with Inias help, but it’s just a tourniquet for the gaping wound.  The second he is alone the pressure is released, and Dean’s heart bleeds out.  Hope is mocking him as the worst of the four-letter words.  Desperately Dean desires nothing more than to trust the signs taped to his wall, but with each passing day he believes slightly less.

A current reoccurring nightmare finds Dean waking to Cas on the floor, blood flowing from a deep wound on his thigh.  His boyfriend hit a major artery and dies before Dean’s feet hit the floor.  Looking up to where the glittery signs once hung, there is a new sentence on the wall written in Castiel’s blood. _Goodbye Dean, it wasn’t enough._

His mother’s ghost appearing with a smile to lean over his lover’s body, the pair disappearing, leaving nothing but the red cooling blood smeared over Dean’s own hands.

The truth in the image rips open Dean’s soul, lashing him to the mattress, motionless from terror.  He can’t yell.  He can barely breathe.  All he can do is lie there as teardrops flow over his face.  Some nights he can be frozen for up to an hour gasping and trembling like a lamb set for slaughter.

Dr. Shurley has re-set Dean’s appointments to once a day; his nightly checks moved to every thirty minutes.  He feels like a child with no control over his emotions, but no matter how hard he tries the nightmares remain and the depression reigns king of all.

Dean burrows deep into the covers waiting for one of the Rubys to kick his ass out of bed.  He’s facing the wall.  Looking over to Cas’s side hurts too much, so ignoring the silent cavern between them is his norm these days.  The sound of the curtains fluttering open is new, but Cas moving about independently of Dean is also his life now.  It must still be gloomy and rainy out because the wall is still dark.

A tap at his shoulder throws Dean into a state of panic; he turns, unsure of what to expect.  Castiel looms over him, his gaze dark and impenetrable.  Neither man moves.  Dean has no clue what is happening here, but he can’t find it in himself to look away from that beautiful face he loves so dearly.  With lightning speed Cas snatches Deans hand, pulling it to his chest where the ring hangs around Castiel’s neck.  Forcefully Cas taps Dean’s fingertips against the metal band.

“I don’t know what that means,” Dean counters, his voice rough from sleep.

Tugging his hand back doesn’t work as Cas tightens his grip over Dean’s wrist.  In a flash of anger, Dean lurches up, shoving Cas fiercely.  The silent man falls backwards but refuses to release Dean’s hand, so instead they both crash onto the floor in a pile of vicious limbs.  Wrestling for dominance, both men shove, hit and scratch each other.  Raw emotions boil over, leaving them empty with no love or care left to give.  These touches scream about need and nothing more.  Over the course of the battle of wills Dean’s mouth finds Cas’s lips.  The kiss is harsh and brutal.  Castiel is giving as hard as Dean as they roll on the floor.  Blood pumps so roughly through Dean’s body he can hear the thumping of his own heart in his ears.  He’s still alive; Cas is still alive.  The strikes turning into depraved groping as clothing is torn from their bodies.  Dean’s brain has shut off, allowing his body to go completely on instinct.

Tongue and teeth clash against each other, skin gliding over skin in every way imaginable.  Dean accepts the bottom position as he snakes his hand down without looking.  He’s aware that Cas is naked, not a stitch of fabric on either man.  Making sure his eyes stay focused on Castiel’s face, Dean begins stroking his boyfriend’s hard cock.  Immediately on board with the activities, Cas mirrors his grip as their hands fist, slip and turn in an almost cruel pace.  This is about release, plain and simple.  Cas doesn’t have more.  Dean understands. In fact his emotions are so raw even the idea of making love freaks him out.

Castiel drops his forehead onto Dean’s as he breathes in his lover’s air.  God how he has missed this scent so up close and personal.  _Castiel wants Dean._ Obviously the sign endures.  The tingling in Dean’s groin informs him that this is not going to last much longer, dirty and quick is all he gets today.  Abruptly Cas’s head is moving to the meaty bit just below his neck.  Dean’s expecting a harsh sucking sensation as his lover leaves a purple mark, but Cas has other plans, sinking teeth heavily into his flesh.

“Jesus Fucking Christ!”  Dean shouts as his body slams into his orgasm.

Castiel follows suit, mixing his cum with Dean’s and rolling off of Dean to grab a blanket.  His boyfriend covers his lap and thighs with the material.  They lie on their backs shoulder to shoulder, panting from exertion.  Eventually, Dean realizes that the cum drying on his stomach isn’t going anywhere on its own so he rises, heading to the bathroom.  It takes him a few minutes to clean up, pee and brush his teeth.  Dean feels kind of bad that Cas had to smell his horrid morning breath.

An apology is on the tip of his lips as he re-enters the room only to find it empty.  Why he thought this would change anything is ridiculous.  Glancing back at the signs he sees an addition to one of them.  Written in black sharpie over _Castiel loves Dean_ is one word, MINE.  Dean rubs lightly over the bite mark he’s sporting on his neck, grinning.  Damn his boyfriend is one possessive dude.  He actually laughs out loud so brightly he startles himself.  Cas was making damn sure that Dean couldn’t question his intentions even though Castiel was scarcely keeping it together.

“I’m important,” the words sound odd but so very real. 

Ruby 2.0 storms in, taking in the fact that Dean is still nude.  “Good look for you, Winchester.”

“Fuck you, Ruby.”  He gives her the finger while searching for his underwear.

“Anytime.”  She tilts her hips into the door, “Not right now though because you have an extra session with Dr. Shurley this morning.”

“Can I have breakfast?” he calls over his shoulder, finishing dressing.

She shrugs, “A quick one so hurry.”

He follows her out, rubbing his neck where the bite resides.  Touching the mark seems to put his anxiety at ease.  Cas loves him. 

****

“It’s too early for feelings,” Dean whines while he and Ruby 2.0 wait for the elevator.

“Sorry buddy, Dr. Talley had to pick you up from the floor last night.  He said you wouldn’t stop screaming.  That pretty much guarantees top billing with the doc.”

He would fight her, but she’s not wrong.  Nothing could be more embarrassing then waking to being held by a man that is most definitely not your boyfriend.  Dean could barely spit out a thank you. 

The doors sweep open to reveal motherfucking Satan himself in the elevator with a guard.  Ruby of course pushes him on board without a word.  Dean takes in the new officer.  He’s not Lucifer’s usual chaperone, which causes Dean’s spidey senses to go on full alert.  The guy is small and so new he doesn’t even have a name tag yet.  This is bad.  Within moments of his mind scanning the scene all hell breaks loose.

Lucifer turns his head slightly to wink at Dean before throwing his elbow into the big red stop button.  The elevator shimmies, halting its descent.  The idiotic officer grabs for his gun; two seconds after he yanks it from the hip holster Lucifer has snagged it from him effortlessly.  Dean steps forward lowering into attack mode when Castiel’s tormentor waves the gun in Dean’s direction.

“Whoa there cowboy, you stay where you are.”  Without missing a beat, Lucifer turns the nose of the gun towards the guard, firing.  The bullet hits the poor bastard in the face.  No coming back from that.

Ruby shrieks at a high-pitch level only girls can even fathom touching.  Stepping over the dead guard, Lucifer backhands her so hard she slams into the silver wall, passing out.

“Now, it’s just you and me, Winchester.”  A glimmer of excitement is catching in the man’s icy cold glare, “We’ve got some time to kill,” Lucifer tilts his head at the body on the floor, “want to play?”

“Fuck no,” Dean spits out, rage latching onto his skin and spreading like fire.  This is one of the assholes that destroyed Castiel's life and took his brothers and sisters down with him.  Lucifer enjoys fear.  The ugly jerk feeds off the pain and suffering of all those around him, so Dean decides right then and there he’s going to give him jack shit to work with.  His opponent remains in handcuffs, limiting his range of motion.  “You don’t scare me.”

Tsking Dean’s answer, Lucifer shoots Dean in the shoulder.  Okay, he was not expecting to be shot, but God Damn it that hurts.  With a smirk Lucifer tosses the gun to the corner near Ruby.  The desire for the weapon overrides common sense because Lucifer is expecting him to lunge for it.  Dean covers maybe two strides before the chain connecting Lucifer’s handcuffs wraps around Dean’s neck.

A split second decision is going to cost Dean his life.   The links of the cuffs dig deeply into his flesh. Dean reaches up, slipping his fingers under the metal and thanking the Lord for at least the ability to keep the chain from cutting off his air supply.  The two men stand in a stalemate, neither moving.

Lucifer places his mouth on Dean’s left ear, the words tickling his skin, “I can wait.  You’re slowly bleeding out, won’t be long until you can’t fight me.  Then I’ll just push your own fingers into your wind pipe.”

“The alarm is blaring.  Someone will come; I can make it till then.”  Dean inhales to prove his point.

“You want to hear something funny?”  Lucifer snickers, “I haven’t heard from any of my family outside of Uriel in a decade.  Then three days ago this letter arrives from Hannah.  It was odd, but hey, maybe someone died.  Such a pity that the stupid bitch just wanted to brag about all the wonderful things that were happening to my pathetic brothers.  How they were getting out?  How you had become their God Damn savior.”

The asshole has the audacity to kiss Dean on the forehead.  “Sorry buddy you will be dead way before the cavalry arrives.  Unless you are resurrected as the next coming of Jesus Christ, you won’t see your boyfriend again. I should make a crown of thorns to place on your headstone.  You actually think you can save them.  Hope is a dangerous thing, Dean; the second your heart stops every dream you gave them ceases to exist. Enjoy hell.”

The chain on his neck compresses harder, forcing Dean to use more of his arms to push back against the building pressure.  Stars begin dancing in front of his face from lack of oxygen.  Shit, Lucifer has the upper hand.  This is why the asshole shot him first. Dean doesn’t have the strength.  He’s going to die.  Shaking his head, Dean attempts to stay conscious.

The breathing on his neck moves, causing Dean to shiver.  He can hear the wicked grin in Lucifer’s voice, “My, my little Cassie likes to leave his mark.  Does that make you his bitch?”

Dean wishes he could touch the bite on his neck.  There is hope.  He inhales, taking in the memory of Cas smiling, those gorgeous lips anticipating their next kiss. 

“Castiel loves Dean.  Castiel wants Dean.  Castiel and Dean forever.”  Dean mumbles, incoherently holding onto the mantra like the oxygen he so desperately needs. 

Dark sinister laughter silences Dean’s words, “Why do you think I’m doing this?”

“Shits and giggles,” Dean quips with a smirk, shadows building in his vision.

“This will decimate Castiel.   No longer will the coward simply slice up his thighs over his sad little Hael.  Next year he will take to his wrists.  The fucking fag will meet you in the veil fast enough, Dean.”

“Oh hell no!”  There is zero chance Dean’s going to be the reason Cas takes his life. 

The throbbing from his injury takes a backseat as this will require laser focus.  Dean jumps up, kicking his feet against the silver wall of the elevator.  He uses the momentum to push with all his might backwards.  Luck is on his side as he crashes into Lucifer, ramming the guy’s body into the opposing wall of the box.  Yanking with all his might the chain gives enough for Dean to slide his face under, falling to the floor.  Dean stands up, turning to face Lucifer.  He punches the guy hard in the nose, mostly because it felt good.  With the other man disoriented, Dean snatches the orange-covered shoulders, twirling Lucifer so his back is to Dean’s chest.  Instantly he throws his arm around Lucifer’s throat squeezing with all his might. 

“You won’t do it.  You don’t have the balls to kill someone, Winchester, fucking pansy.”  Concern bleeds into Lucifer’s final words.

The memory of his father teaching him how to snap a man’s neck swirls over Dean’s thoughts.  Now it’s Dean’s turn to laugh.  He places his right hand on Lucifer’s chin, tightening his hold on the man’s neck with his other arm.  Dean allows Lucifer one final breath.  That is all.  A peaceful calm settles over him as he finishes the job, releasing the body to crumple to the floor.

“That’s for Cas,” Dean sneers kicking Lucifer in his dead eyes.

There is an awful wheeze to his breathing. Dean paces the small space, trying to calm the massive adrenaline rush pumping through his veins.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chokes out over his damaged throat.  Terror begins to creep into his mind as the weight of what he just did hits him. 

“Shit, shit, son of a bitch!”  Dean curses as he collapses to the metal floor, banging his head against the side.  “What the fuck did I do?”

The big red button shines like a beacon, but Dean is torn.  He obviously needs medical attention, and Ruby does too.  She’s moaning a bit but still out of it.  However, the second those doors open Dean’s life on the 4th floor is gone.  Killing another patient will definitely get him moved to the 6th immediately.  They probably won’t even let him see Cas again.  Panic drills through him worse than the bullet.  Dean’s beautiful future vanishes before he even got a chance to try.  He’s not surprised.  Sam is the brother who gets the white picket fence life, not Dean.  The eldest Winchester has been a nut case since he was 6.  Maybe this is for the best. He would have just dragged Cas down with him.

Tears stream down his face as Dean continues to ram his head against the wall violently.  He yelps when tiny feminine hands reach out, grasping his chin and halting the harsh movement.  Ruby hovers above him, her expression soft and kind, very unlike his nurse who’s typically the dark sarcastic one.  She smiles at him.  Her hair is fucked up and a bruise is forming on her temple, but she is gentle.

“Dean, I need you calm before I can hit the release button.  I’m pretty sure a couple armed guards will meet the elevator on the first floor.”  Hesitantly she kneels in front of him.  “Can’t have them putting another bullet hole in my hero.”

“Hero?”  Dean whispers, his voice wracked with guilt, “I’m a murderer.  They are going to move me up to sixth.”

“Repeat after me, Dean.  Lucifer killed his guard.”

Steadying his breathing, he obeys, “Lucifer killed his guard.”

“Lucifer assaulted my nurse.”  Ruby’s gaze is stern. 

“Lucifer assaulted my nurse.”

She nods then gives him one more sentence to learn.  “Lucifer was going to rape her.”

Searching his memories, Dean’s trying to recall one iota of truth in that sentence.  “But?”

“I will be damned before anyone takes one of my boys away.  Do you understand?  We need to make it very clear that there was no choice.  You had to kill him.  Now say it.”

The nurses on the hall have fed him, cleaned him, and loved him since day one.  Fresh tears wash away the frightened child deep inside him.  He doesn’t need his mother to return from the grave.  He has three mothers now. 

“I’m not alone.”  Dean speaks in a reverent tone.

Ruby tilts down, kissing his cheek.  “No.  I’m here, but I need you to say those three sentences for me.  When anyone asks about what happened that’s all you are going to say, okay?”

Nodding, Dean replies, “Lucifer killed his guard.  Lucifer assaulted my nurse.  Lucifer was going to rape her.  I had no choice.”

“Good boy.”  She kisses the other cheek.  “You stay next to me until someone we trust comes for you.  Okay?”

“Yes,” Dean answers, his eyes tracking her movement. 

The nurse makes her way to the button, pushing it then returning to sit next to him on the floor.  Ruby takes Dean into her arms, guiding his head to rest on her chest.  He flinches as the doors slide open, but she just holds him tighter.

Dean closes his eyes, blocking out the chaotic slew of bodies and shouting, focusing on the fall and rise of Ruby’s breast.  It took 24 years, but Dean finally discovers the real safety of a mother’s love.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I truly love comments and questions. 
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	25. Healing

* * *

 

 

The world spins in a morphine-induced haze.  Dean’s eyelids weigh heavy on his face, keeping them open has become a real chore.  He smashes his lips together.   Dean can hear the smacking noise but can’t feel anything, leaving the world out of focus and tilting to the right.  At some point Meg talks to him, but he’s got no idea what she’s saying, only that her mouth is moving.  Damn, these are good drugs.  Dean vaguely remembers being attacked, but it’s hidden away along with the pain.  The only thing that Dean refuses to forget is the three sentences Ruby the 2nd encouraged him to memorize.  Although, no one seems to be questioning his motives in the elevator.  Dean hopes Ruby will handle all the details so he can remain in this happy high.

Missouri floats into his field of vision, and he gives her his biggest smile.  Dean wonders if she plans on taking him home to Cas, that would be awesome.  She’s repeating something and yet Dean’s ears are not cooperating.  A gentle hand cups his chin, shaking his head, “Dean, sweetheart, you need to sleep.”

“Okay,” Dean murmurs, complying in moments.

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  Dean finds the rhythm soothing; it’s not as wonderful as Cas’s snores but a decent way to wake up.  He goes to stretch and when he can’t his eyes fly open, alarm bells ringing in his mind.  Why the hell can’t he move his left shoulder?  Glancing down, Dean spots his poor arm in a sling snug against his chest.  Jesus, his entire side aches.  That’s right, Lucifer fucking shot him.  So not cool. 

After a deep breath, he blinks, taking in his surroundings.  Mammoth moose-size shoulders are slumped over the foot of his bed.  Dean would feel bad about his brother making the journey to Little Falls for him, but shit, he can’t really blame the guy.  What he does find shocking is Jess sleeping in the bed next to him.  His pregnant sister-in-law doesn’t appear injured, still in street clothes.  The nurses in the infirmary probably took pity on her.  At least he thinks he’s still in the Heavenly Host Psychiatric Hospital.  Familiar panic rises in his gut.  Please, let him still be in the same hospital as Cas.  Eventually he notices the green curtains, the same ones from his last visit.

“Look who’s up!”  Meg startles him as she pulls one side of the curtains back.  “How ya feeling, Dean?”

Actually, now that he considers it, he doesn’t feel too bad.  His arm has a growing itchy pain but nothing he can’t ignore.  Dad always told him to man up and never complain about something as silly as pain.  His stomach twitches from hunger, but other than that, “I’m fine,” he chokes over his sore throat. 

Instinctually Dean touches his throat, “What?” he asks, his voice rough and stinging.

“Lucifer really fucked up your windpipe.  You will heal, but for a while you might want to keep the talking to a minimum.”  Meg giggles through her next comment, “You and Castiel will have so much fun as you try to regale stories of your fight to the death.”

“Shut up,” he grits out. “It was nothing.”

The nurse grins, taking his wrist to check his pulse. “Oh, don’t be modest.  You took on the big bad Lucifer Milton to protect Nurse Ruby and that’s all you can say?”

“I could eat.”  Dean half shrugs because his left side is not responding.  “Shoulder?”  Little words seem best.

“You’re pretty lucky.  The bullet went straight through and just grazed the bone.  Recovery will hurt like hell, but I know a truly spectacular physical therapist.”  She winks, tugging a rolling tray in from outside of the curtained area.

“Yay,” Dean states with lifeless sarcasm.

She nods, pulling out a rather threatening needle, Dean’s eyes widening at the sight.  Meg pauses to take in his anxious hiss. “Don’t be a baby.”  She jabs his damaged bicep, but the injection makes everything nice and numb so he’s good for now.

“Time?”  There are no windows or clocks so he’s at her mercy.

Lifting her wrist, Meg checks her watch. “A little after 5.”

“A.M. or P.M.?”  A coughing fit halts the conversation.

“A.M., big guy, you’ve been out for a while now.”

 The need to know outweighs the embarrassment, “Cas?”

With a big sigh Meg grabs her favorite stool, dragging it over to his bedside.  “Garth blamed your absence at group on the added sessions with Dr. Shurley, but when you didn’t make it by lunch people were curious.  Ruby 2.0 wouldn’t leave your side until it was clear that you had no choice but to …”

“Kill him,” Dean adds, a smile tugging at his lips.  Ruby had kept her promise.

“I was going to say violently snap the man’s neck like a twig, but hey, yours works too.”  Meg gives him a flirty smirk, “The brothers and specifically Castiel were acting out wanting to know where you were.  I think it was maybe around 2 p.m. yesterday that Garth had everyone meet in the commons so he could inform them of the incident.”

Dean’s stomach hurts, this time it’s not from hunger.  He can tell Meg is holding something back, “Are they angry,” he pauses to catch his breath, then finishes, “at me for murdering their brother?”

“Are you fucking with me?”  Meg snaps. “You are their new messiah.  I think Gabriel is constructing a monument made of phallic fruit in your honor.  Of course they aren’t angry, you dumbass, you set them free from one of their tormentors this morning.  All hail the hero!”

She salutes him mockingly.  However, he sees the seriousness in her expression as she settles back in her chair.  “Our sweet Clarence did not take the news so well.”

Dean sits up with concern, yelping from the throbbing in his shoulder.

“Don’t pull your stitches out,” Meg admonishes, helping him to get resituated before continuing. “We both know he is ultra-protective and,” she taps his bite mark,” possessive of you.  Not to mention this time of year he’s like Jekyll just waiting for Hyde to show up.”

“What happened?”  Dean barks because this is all his fault.

“He beat the shit out of Cole trying to get out the door to find you.  Spent the night in the quiet room with a heavy dose of knockout drugs.  I’m personally okay with that; Cole can be such a tool.”

Shaking his head, Dean’s heart strains under the pressure of Cas’s pain.  “He’s not that bad.”

“True, but I bet it was hot.  Our little angel whipping out the badass.”  Meg punches the air to accent her point.

They sit in silence for a bit as Dean tries to grasp all the pain he’s caused.  Yet, the more he chews on it the more he understands that he would be dead if he hadn’t killed Lucifer.  Ruby could be too.  No, he did the right thing, and if the brothers are behind him then that’s all the justification he needs. 

Looking around the room Dean requests “I want to go home.”

“Home where?”  Sam rubs his scruffy chin shooting Dean with his best puppy face.

Never in his life has Dean been so happy that Meg has zero social boundaries as she cuts in, “Dude, I thought you knew your brother.  Home to Dean is anywhere that his sweet angel resides.”

“Oh,” Sam nods like he’s not sure about the answer, “Castiel, of course.”

“Don’t mind him, Dean.”  Jess sits up on her bed, “He wants you all to himself.  The sharing thing has never been Sam’s strong suit.  Tried to get you transferred while you were out.”

“What?”  Dean gruffly shouts, attempting to lean forward and failing miserably as Meg guides him back to his pillows.

Sam glares at his wife, “I didn’t do it.  It was merely a suggestion; I mean come on, Dean, you seem to get attacked here on a monthly basis.”

Well his brother isn’t wrong.  Between the ear rip from Gabriel, head crack from Dad, and now being shot by Lucifer, there does appear to be a pattern.  Dean gives a frown towards Sam, “Don’t wanna leave.”

“And you won’t.”  Jess has moved to the spot next to him, patting his hand.  “We ALL,” she emphasizes tilting over to Sam,” understand the importance of maintaining a familiar environment.”

“I was worried, Dean,” Sam confesses, his gaze landing on Dean’s sling.

Carefully Dean grabs his brother’s hand, giving it a slight tug so his oversized baby brother will move closer.  Dean takes Sam in a sad half hug, whispering, “I love you, Sammy.  Thank you.”

It takes a couple of minutes before Sam moves back, wiping at his eyes.  Jess starts to ask, “How did …”

Her words die on her lips as Missouri walks in followed closely by none other than Castiel.  Dean can’t speak; his voice lost beyond just the lingering damage.  Words can’t describe the ache in his lover’s face.  Cas has definitely seen better days.  His normally shiny blue eyes are red and watery, he’s sporting a bruise over his left eye, and his hair has reached an all new level of messy.  Castiel’s typical white scrubs are wrinkled and obviously haven’t been changed in a while.

Missouri explains, “If he was a good boy all night his reward was a visit first thing before my shift ended.”

Cas doesn’t give two shakes about the other people in the room as he climbs onto Dean’s bed.  Pausing long enough to take in Dean’s injuries before draping himself over Dean’s body and curling off to the right side, avoiding the sling entirely.

Dragging his fingers through dark wavy hair, Dean ignores the half-assed excuses everyone gives to flee the space.  Except for Missouri, who can’t leave being that she’s Castiel’s babysitter.  She just finds a chair turning it away from them to give a semblance of privacy.

His boyfriend wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, sighing with relief.  Dean doesn’t want to talk and with Cas no one expects him to.  All his lover needed was him, alive.  He turns his head, dipping down just enough to kiss the top of Cas’s sweet forehead.  The two men simply hold each other, remembering how to breathe.

“Castiel.” 

Dean stirs, peering over to Missouri rubbing Cas’s arm.  He’s not surprised when his boyfriend’s response is to snuggle deeper into Dean’s side.  The poor guy probably got no sleep last night.

“Please,” Dean battles to get out,” let him stay.”

“He’s been down here longer than I planned, but you two are just so damn cute.”  She shakes Castiel. “If you behave I’m sure one of the Rubys can be persuaded to bring you back this afternoon.”

This has Cas popping up with a grin. Castiel plants a lingering kiss to Dean’s lips before extricating himself from Dean’s bed.  Then he takes something from Missouri, handing it to Dean.  Glimpsing the leather Dean knows it’s their journal; with a little wave he watches as his boyfriend heads back to their hall.

A moment later and Dean’s searching for the last entry written by Cas.

_My Dean,_

_I miss you too.  These past few weeks have been agonizing.  The war within my own mind is constantly throwing me in several directions at once to the point I can’t see through the darkness.  I would give anything to just feel better.  Watching as you crumble from my own inadequacies just rips open the wound even wider._

_The night you had an episode in the bathroom was like a nightmare.  I was at an all-time low that day and didn’t feel worthy to wear your mother’s ring.  It was never my intent to hurt you.  I am sorry.  How many more times will I ask your forgiveness before you finally stop accepting and move on to something better?  Thank you for your patience.  You, Dean Winchester, are a righteous man.  So handsome, smart, and loving I can only hope that I have the chance to make it up to you._

_PS – Its Chippendale Dancers not Chip n Dale.  You really need to do your research._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_DEAN!_

_I apologize for the terrible handwriting.  My hands are trembling so wildly I can barely hold the pen.  Garth informed us after lunch about your encounter with Lucifer.  I haven’t prayed since I was child wishing for a different life.  Today I prayed for you, my love.  He shot you.  There are so many emotions pounding through my body it’s like I drank 10 shots of espresso._

_Please be okay._

_Please don’t hate me._

_Ever since you came here, Dean, my family has hurt you.  If it were possible to sell my soul to change the past, I would ask to exchange places with you in that fateful elevator.  It should have been me._

_I have to see you, touch you._

_I need you._

_You protected us all._

_Castiel_

Dean realizes that after this letter was written Cas attacked Cole, fighting to see him.  He is grateful that Missouri was able to reason with him last night because seeing and touching each other helped them both.  Cas’s presence in his life is better than any antibiotic or drug.  Simply put, they have taken this sad song and made it better.

****

Four days later Dean is finally going home to the 4th floor.  His shoulder and his heart are healing.  Not to mention he can finally speak without the Lord Voldemort impression.  Cas came to visit every day for one hour.  Neither spoke, but they said everything through touch and long passionate stares.  Yesterday, Meg tossed Cas out early because she refuses to be subjected to all the cutesy kissing.  Dean didn’t mind; it would kill him to watch Cas with someone else.

Ruby 1.0 stands next to him in the elevator, her eyes scanning him for any sign of panic.  She needn’t bother; that event is one that Dean’s been able to put behind him.  As he told Dr. Shurley this morning when he dropped by for Dean’s session, “I’ve got bigger fish to fry, doc.”

Tomorrow is the 1st day of April, and Dean’s ready to focus on prepping for his father’s trial.  Sam will come up in the next week to go over Dean’s testimony and to discuss how rough the defense will attack his recollection of events.  He’s tired of lies and secrets.  Hiding from those you love can destroy a relationship, but ignoring the truth can make you crazy.

It’s just after lunch when Dean wanders in to the commons to see Samandriel and Inias waiting for him.  His stomach plummets at the thought that Cas wasn’t here to meet him and what that might mean.

“Hey, Dean!”  Samandriel waves him over to their table, where the brothers are playing cards.  “It’s good to see you up and about!”

“I could say the same to you,”  Dean counters.  Samandriel’s depression had kept him bedridden for over a week.  “Inias how are things?”

Inias tilts his head in that very Cas manner.  He knows what Dean is really asking: Is Cas okay?  Don’t let me walk into a room with the love of my life gone.  Not that Dean would be angry because Mr. Comatose is always a possibility, but today Dean needs Cas, his Cas, running on all cylinders.  He’s got a speech he’s been working on, and it won’t have the same effect on statue Cas.

“All is well.”  Inias grins as the two men lead Dean into the hall.

Dean has to laugh at the massive sign draped over the ceiling of the hallway.  The guys must have used every ounce of glitter in the craft closet to make it.  But the sight of _Welcome Home Dean_ gives him a warm tingly feeling.

Gabriel steps up to him with tears in his eyes.  He looks better, more himself today, which gives Dean hope.  The eldest brother hugs Dean whispering into his ear, “Thank you.  You accomplished something I never had the strength to do.”  A hitch in his voice tugs at Dean’s emotions.  “I am forever in your debt.”

Leaning back so he can look into Gabriel’s eyes, Dean answers, “He gave me no choice, so you owe me nothing.  It’s okay, Gabe, you are an excellent brother.”

Nodding through a sob, Gabe pretends to slap his shoulder, which makes all the nurses and orderlies twitch.  “Gotcha!”  he shouts, chortling at their overreaction before lowering his voice for only Dean.  “He’s waiting for you.  Go get him, tiger.”

The desire to run is only hampered by how painful that might be so he quickens his walk heading towards the room he shares with Cas.  Throwing the door open and slipping inside, his breath is stolen straight from his lungs at the sight of a naked Cas lounging seductively on his bed.  Dean shuts and locks the door before anyone gets a glimpse at what is his and his alone.

Cas is smiling so brightly it makes his face light up.  Dean’s eyes rake down the gorgeous body of his boyfriend.  There are two navy blue sleeves covering Cas’s thighs, which is to be expected.  Dean doesn’t even pause; he’s just thrilled to have his boyfriend back.  He sits down next to Cas’s hip, reaching out with his hand that can actually move to stroke all the exposed flesh.

“This is going to be tricky Cas, what with my broken wing.”  He lifts the arm that remains stuck in a sling.  “Dr. Styne said it would be another couple weeks until I can take it off.  Not sure I can rock your world right now.”

His lover scoots over so his back is against the wall, making room for Dean to lie down with him.  It requires several tries before Dean can get down and comfortable, but with Cas’s help he achieves the goal.  He notes that the bed has been remade so the head is at the opposite end, allowing Dean’s injured shoulder to be away from Cas.  His boyfriend has put a lot of thought into this.

Taking in a deep breath Dean begins, “I love you, Castiel.  No matter the situation good or bad I’m not going anywhere.  I will scream it from –“

His speech is cut short by a luscious pair of lips gliding over his own making Dean hum with pleasure.  Cas hovers over him, mindful of Dean’s injuries.  The words Dean had planned for four days slip away in favor of Castiel’s tongue roaming into his mouth.  God, this is better than talking.  Cas takes Dean’s hand in his, holding it lovingly as their lips say everything.

I’m sorry.

You are forgiven.

We need each other.

We love each other.

After countless minutes of making out and enjoyable rubbing of lower extremities, Castiel tips his head back.  His gruff sexy voice adds, “We are always.”

“Hell yes we are,” Dean replies before tugging Cas back into a deep, needy kiss.  Tomorrow the words can come, but today kissing is enough.

A banging at their door leaves Dean whining as Castiel stands up, grabbing a pair of Dean’s jeans to put on and holy shit that’s a brand new fetish.  When did Cas start wearing his clothes?

When the door opens Gadreel walks in, and seeing him return makes Dean smile.  However, the concern on the guy's face might be a problem.  “I am sorry to interrupt your …physical enjoyment.”

“Get on with it Gadreel so we can go back to our private times,” Dean exclaims with annoyance.

“I just wanted to remind you both about the date.  Specifically tomorrow's date.”

Scrunching his face in confusion, Dean queries, “April 1st?”

“Exactly, Dean,” Gadreel speaks with a twinge of fear in his tone, “April Fools is upon us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my sweet readers. Please be kind and feed the animals. Comments and questions are their preferred diet.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	26. Fools in Love

* * *

 

Castiel paces between the beds, refusing to leave their room.  It’s a quarter past 8 in the morning, and Dean’s getting hungry.  However, as he watches his boyfriend bleed anxiety over what’s on the other side of the door, he wonders what Gabe actually does to incite all this fear.  Gadreel spent an hour last night explaining Gabriel’s love of April Fool’s and how he spends the day living up to his nickname: The Trickster.

“Cas, I really need to eat and take my painkillers,” Dean announces, wincing as he tries to move his left arm.  He’s down to just oral meds, but holy hell he’s not missing a dose.

His boyfriend’s head pops up with mild worry on his face.  There seems to be a serious inner battle on whether to open the door, so Dean hisses with his flinch this time to really drill in his dire need.  Finally, Cas nods, pointing to the bathroom.

“Got it, you go pee then we leave,” he answers, watching Cas close the door.  However, his stomach rumbles at the thought of food so Dean takes matters into his own hands, because, really, how bad could it be?

He should have listened.

Swinging open the door, Dean walks straight into a clear plastic film spread in front of the door frame.  A gooey, gross mess assaults every piece of him that makes contact with the plastic.  “What the hell?”

Now Dean’s pissed off. He tears through the flimsy sheet and walks onto the hall. His hair, arms, legs, and half his face are now dripping in the unidentified clear substance.  Lifting his right arm to his nose, Dean takes a whiff; why does it smell like strawberries?  He squints while rubbing the goo between his fingers and then it clicks.  Motherfucker, that asshole has been holding out on them.  This shit is lube, high quality flavored lube!  They’ve been barebacking with Vaseline when Gabriel has tons of the good stuff.

Suddenly, Dean notices someone licking the lube off his sling.  Dean’s head snaps to the left, and Frank is caught mid-lick.  “Frank!  I am not a lollipop, step back, man.”

“But you taste like strawberries!  Maybe just one more taste?”  Frank squeaks, pleading with Dean. 

Quickly Dean attempts to tilt away as Frank’s disgusting tongue slips out to lick him again.  However, the connection is never made as a growl erupts from behind Dean and a familiar hand snatches Frank’s chin. 

Instantly Frank raises his hands, moving away from them.  “Sorry, I’ll go find Kevin.  I think he got hit with blueberry.”

“I’m covered in lube,” Dean whines.

A smirk grows on Castiel’s face, and Dean has no doubt he’s imagining several uses for the excess oil.  They both pause as they watch Ed walk by; he clearly got it worse.  The poor guy appears to have been tarred and feathered.

“I’d give anything to be covered in lube,” Ed sneers. “This black shit burns.”

Dean can’t help but query, “Where did he get the feathers?”

“Probably from the bald live chicken in the quiet room,” Kevin shouts, making a mad dash for the commons with Frank right on his heels.

A faint sweet scent drifts behind Kevin, but he smells more like raspberries to Dean.  “Well then how the hell did he get a chicken, a LIVE chicken?” 

His boyfriend just shrugs with a frown.  Cas wasn’t exaggerating; this shit is wild.  Dean decides he needs food and caffeine before dealing with any more of this April Fool's nuttiness.  He moves towards the commons, forgetting that maybe bare feet and lube are not the best combination.  One step and Dean's feet are sliding out from under him. “Holy Shit!”

Strong arms are grabbing Dean from his good side catching him before he falls.  Cas is his savior.  Dean quickly realizes how much hitting the floor would hurt.  “God Damn it!”

“Do you smell strawberries?”  Gabriel pops up with a devious grin.  “The hair seems a tad over gelled today, Dean-O.”

Once Cas is positive Dean isn’t going to bite it again, his boyfriend pulls Gabe up by the collar of his extremely loud Hawaiian shirt.  Castiel has him hoisted up so high Gabriel’s feet are actually dangling in the air.  Dean should not find this hot.  This is so wrong.  He’s thrilled that he’s wearing his sleep pants because it’s left plenty of room for his swelling cock.  Manhandling is definitely a turn-on for Dean.

“Hey, Cassie, you’re taking this a little too seriously this morning.  It’s just a joke,” Gabriel jests with trepidation, because Cas’s face gives "look of death" a completely new meaning.  “How bout we put the fun brother down?”

Gradually Cas lets his catch’s feet touch the ground.  Then Castiel points at Dean, makes a weird wing movement with his left arm and finishes by dragging his pointer finger over his crotch.

“I understand, Cassie; if Dean gets hurt in any way you will relocate the beloved twig and berries.”  The older brother sighs, wiping his eyes.  He steps closer to Cas whispering, “Might I suggest a bath for Dean to clean up in, and specifically the tub on the far left.  Also, when he goes for breakfast he can have my seat.”

Releasing the offensive shirt, Cas smiles, turning to Dean with a quizzical look.  Yeah, Dean’s on the same page. How the hell is he going to get to the bath?  “We could hold hands?  That way I’ve got support if I slip.”

His boyfriend reaches out, lacing their fingers together; it’s amazing to have his Cas back.  Slowly, with great focus, they make their way across the hall.  Progress along the route is slow, and there are a couple of scares.  Dean’s throwing a hailstorm of curses every time his feet slide even an inch. They both freeze when they reach the bathroom door because, of course, it’s locked and Dean hasn’t spotted a staff member all morning.  Are they hiding?  That would make them smarter than him, but fuck, he wants to get this shit off him and eat.

“I need a fucking bath!”  Dean shouts glancing over his shoulder.

Ruby and Ruby race out of the glass encasement. The first pulls the second's hair, but the second retaliates with a swift kick to the knee. The blonde drops to the floor, but she grabs second's shoulder on the way, forcing her down as well.  The two women break out into the girliest wrestling match Dean’s ever seen.

“Are you two high?” he questions, because this is insane.

Both Rubys go still, glancing up at him and Cas.  Ruby 1.0 replies, “No, but …”

“They are fighting over who gets to watch,” Gordon claims, peeking out of the nurse’s station.  “You two are like their own personal soap opera.”

“Screw you, asshole.”  Ruby 1.0 stands, patting the dust off her scrubs.  “Fine, 2.0 wins this time, but I get the next bath.”

“Deal,” Ruby the 2nd exclaims as she unlocks the door, letting Cas and Dean into the room.

Cas guides Dean over to the far left tub. “Hey, what do you think is wrong with the other two?”

Halting immediately, Cas gives him a pretty high-quality bitch face, to which Dean responds, “Fine, fine it was a stupid question.  Ruby, my sling is nasty.”

“I’ve got a spare for you.  We can take the icky one off for your bath then replace it with the clean one after.”  Ruby snatches a stool and a magazine, turning away from the tubs.

Observing as Castiel preps his bath, Dean teases the nurse, “Ruby, you can’t see anything facing the far wall.”

She twirls to face him with a slight shrug. “I can give you guys some privacy and still be a part of the moment.  Just listening to you two gives me hope.”

“Hope for what?” he counters.

“That one day I get to be the fool in love,” she smirks, pivoting so her back is to him. 

“I’m no fool.”

Dean can hear the teasing in her tone, “Yes you are, Dean, and you live for it.”

Blue eyes bob into his vision and Dean can’t deny it, “Hell, I’d die for it.”

A soft, sad expression builds on Castiel’s face.  Dean’s favorite set of lips brush against his in a warm affectionate kiss as Cas’s hands lower his pajama pants and boxers.  Fingertips ghost over Dean’s abs and upward over his chest; he shivers from the barely there touch.  He loves this.  Everything about Cas’s caress leaves Dean wanting more.  He pants quietly as those beautiful, strong hands remove his sling. 

His head gently knocks Castiel’s cheek as Dean whispers, “Can you get in with me?”

“Yes, he can,” Ruby insists.

“I thought you weren’t going to participate?”  Dean prods with a grin.  It’s a moot point since he’s enjoying the spectacular view as his boyfriend bends over to check the temp.

A second later Ruby replies, “Watch? No.  Participate because I’m listening? Oh, very much so.”

There isn’t a chance to throw a comment back as Cas inches closer to him to kiss the pink scars on his shoulder.  The sling kept them covered.  This is the first time that his lover gets to examine the gunshot wound.  Several kisses later, Cas traces the marks left with his pointer finger, his focus locked on Dean and the intensity of that stare will always release the special tingle up his spine. 

“I love you,” Dean concedes into Cas’s ear.  “Will you wash me?”

Castiel takes his hand, helping Dean into the tub.  He can hear Cas stripping but keeps his gaze forward since he doesn’t have his sleeves on.   His boyfriend climbs in behind him, so Dean’s back rests on Castiel’s chest.  The two men sit for several minutes just letting the hot water ease their nerves from the stress of the morning. 

The space is tight for two grown men, although Dean’s enjoying the squeeze.  He can feel the scars of Castiel’s inner thighs against his hip.  They must have been really deep to leave such rough marks behind.  Dean’s injury aches.  Yet, the hot water and loving embrace of his lover lessens the pain to a dull droll.  A multitude of chaste kisses rain down on his neck and shoulders.  Dean’s heart twinges when he thinks about how much he missed the little things.

 Cas takes a washcloth from the edge of the tub and starts to scrub the lube from Dean’s skin.  The contact helps to heal all the damage deep within Dean.  The rips to his heart from the thaw, the ache of emptiness left after he openly spoke of his mother’s suicide and the fear from the upcoming trial.  With each pass of the supple fabric, Dean’s shoulders become less tense and his mind is free.

The dump of water over his hair sets off a belly laugh from Dean, quickly bleeding into a moan as Cas massages his scalp with shampoo.  “Cas, I’m going to cum from that alone.”

The squeal of a stool moving makes Dean chuckle.  Ruby obviously needed a peek at what specifically Cas was doing to get that response.  It takes three rinses with shampoo to get all the lube out.  Dean wishes he could return the favor for Cas, but his shoulder would not approve of the movement. 

“Hey Cas, get out for a second so we can sit face to face,” Dean requests, listening as the sloshing water announces Castiel’s compliance.

Once Cas is out Dean carefully turns, closing his eyes so his boyfriend can climb back into the water.  Dean kisses Cas as he spreads his legs to wrap around the other man’s waist.  Using his good hand Dean cards his fingers through dark silky locks.  Castiel creeps his fingertips up and down Dean’s spine, their lips lazily caressing each other.  There is no rush as they explore.  Hunger, pain and the world abate for a few minutes as Dean falls astray to the taste of Castiel.

“Guys, time's up.”  Ruby nearly sounds heartbroken at ending their bath.  “We can’t hide in here all day; people will talk more than they already do.”

His boyfriend exits first.  Dean closes his eyes, giving Cas his privacy; he can wait until it’s his turn.  A finger taps his eyelids so Dean asks, “You want them closed?”

A hand moves Dean’s head to nod.  “Okay.”

In the next breath Dean’s being guided out of the tub to stand on a fluffy towel.  With his eyes closed he can focus on each swipe of the towel moving from his head down to his toes.  The progress is slow giving Cas time to spend more moments viewing his tattoos unhindered.  Dean knows he’s doing this because the tip of the towel follows the black outlines of each tat.  He is being worshiped.  Every inch of his flesh is polished and adored, and suddenly Dean comprehends.  Cas is thanking the heavens that Dean is still here.  That Lucifer didn’t kill him.  Reaching out, he searches with his hands until he finds Cas’s cheek.  Dean’s not surprised to find silent tears on his lover’s face.

“I’m alive, Cas,” Dean reveals, opening his eyes to peer down at Castiel on his knees.  Cupping his palm over Castiel’s chin, he strokes the strong jaw while speaking, “The thaw didn’t break us, and Lucifer had no chance because we are always.  I’m yours.”

More tears trickle down his lover’s skin, dripping onto Dean’s hand.  Cas bounces his head in agreement, not saying a word. Dean desires Castiel’s voice. The husky, rich sound is better than any song in the world to him.  The limited words from his boyfriend have created a monster within Dean who craves another hit of his favorite drug.  Unfortunately today is not the day, glancing down into concupiscent indigo eyes, his cock is hard, yearning for Cas to move that last few inches and suck him down that glorious throat.

“Ruby, can you close your eyes and plug your ears?”  The request gets Cas’s attention as he slides closer to Dean’s dick.

“Fine, but make it quick.”  She begins to hum an old Madonna tune to cover the noise.

The instance that Ruby has hit “La Isla Bonita,” Castiel’s mouth wraps around his cock, humming with pleasure.  Dean purrs happily, stroking Cas’s hair as he attempts to hold his groin steady.  The wet moist sensation sucking him down sends an eruption of desire over his skin.  Dean glances at his boyfriend and is overwhelmed with emotions.  He almost lost Cas.  The simple idea physically hurts; there is nothing but this man in his future.  From this moment until the day he’s laid to rest, Cas will come first.  His needs, wants, and health will be Dean’s sole mission in life.  Castiel places his hands on Dean’s hips tugging him forward and thrusting Dean’s dick further down his throat.  It’s been weeks since they’ve done this, and Dean doesn’t have the stamina to last; he quickly orgasms, shrieking, “Cas!”

Two seconds later his feet are covered in jizz.  Well, at least Cas got off too.  His boyfriend cleans them both up and helps Dean into a fresh pair of boxer-briefs and jeans with an old Star Wars t-shirt "acquired" from Samandriel.  After he is clothed, Ruby places the new sling on his shoulder, strapping it to his chest. 

Regrettably when he spots Cas, the man is dressed in his white scrubs.  He needs jeans.  Next time Dean gets to go out and about, he’s buying Castiel a pair of skinny jeans.  That man’s ass should never be hidden behind baggy white fabric. His curves, and especially those delicious thighs, should be hugged by snug denim.

“Dean, you ok?”  Ruby scans his face.

Shit!  He really shouldn’t lose himself in fantasies of Cas.  Well at least not right now.  “I’m good but starving. Did we miss breakfast?”

“No, Gordon has a plate for both of you in your room.  I would make a run for it before you get slammed with another practical joke.”

Cas takes his hand as they stroll out of the room, almost smacking directly into a very surprised Gadreel. 

“It's okay man we won’t hurt you,” Dean calmly states, raising his one hand in a placating gesture.  “You can totally chill.”

Gadreel’s forehead crinkles in confusion, but his eyebrows stay up high in shock.  “I am not worried about you two.  Gabriel has kept his distance, so I have had a nice peaceful morning.”

Dean wants to believe him as a normal smile spreads on the man’s face but …simultaneously he and Castiel tilt forward to stare at Gadreel’s eyebrows.  Those fuckers haven’t moved the entire time.  Cas taps Dean’s eyebrow with a concerned gaze.

“Have you seen yourself in a mirror today?”  Dean questions nonchalantly.

“No, the mirrors in my room had been removed last night.  I thought it was a rather silly April Fool's, yet I will take that over something far more sinister.”

“I think we found the sinister.”  At this point Cas doubles over laughing so hard tears are forming in the corner of his eyes.  Dean’s battling to keep a straight face as he adds, “You might want to take a quick peek at yourself.”

“Why?”  Gadreel shouts, sprinting to the shower room with the long wall of mirrors.

Totally interested in the situation, Castiel follows his brother with Dean glued to his side.  They know the exact moment Gadreel sees his face when a litany of screaming "fucks" and "die Gabriel" hit their ears.  Both men halt just inside the shower room to view the show of Gadreel attempting to move his eyebrows.

They find themselves falling to the floor in a fit of giggles because every expression Gadreel tries he just looks more surprised and shocked.

“This is NOT funny!”  Gadreel roars.

Neither of them can reply as Dean lies over Cas on the floor, cackling so strongly Dean’s gasping to breathe.  His shoulder continues to ache, yet Dean barely notices.  Whoever came up with the saying "laughter is the best medicine" was fucking brilliant.  It suddenly occurs to Dean as he observes Gadreel losing it in front of the mirror, his face beet red from laughter:  This is why Gabe does it.  It’s for them.  April 1st comes after the depression- and sorrow-filled thaw.  Sure, the eldest brother gets a kick out of it, who wouldn’t?  Gadreel’s face alone has Dean in stitches. 

The brothers are done crying, done shaking in fear and have put the horrors of that tragic day behind them for one more year.  What a great time to just laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all! Comments and questions make my day brighter.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	27. Keep breathing

* * *

 

The sunshine dips through the large window in the media room, the rays nipping at Dean’s bare toes, such a welcome sight after all the rain.  Dean is done with crap weather.  Smiling, he tracks a group of clouds that resemble angel wings, sliding his hand up his own angel’s thigh.  At lunch Samandriel challenged Cas to an ice skating competition on the Xbox.  Which explains why Dean finds himself lounging on the sofa, his head in Cas’s lap, as his boyfriend kicks his brother’s ass. 

The calm after the storm gives Dean hope for what’s next.  He made it, and now it’s easier to keep breathing.

Afternoons on the hall will always be Dean’s favorite time of day.  There are no expectations, no disappointments, his time is his own, and nothing else matters but spending time with those he loves. Hence, watching the clouds go by while Cas occasionally cards his fingers through Dean’s hair.  He’s grateful for the peace.  April Fool's was fun, but Dean’s still finding glitter in inappropriate places after the glitter explosion at dinner.  Cas went to rim him yesterday and came back with silver lined lips.  It was all kinds of wrong. 

Garth blocks his view of the sky, tilting down to get Dean’s attention.  “Do you know a Bela Talbot?”

“Why?”  Dean queries. He doesn’t want his calm, lazy day to end.

The room goes silent, curious about the unfamiliar name.  “She’s downstairs demanding to visit you.”

Cas’s gentle touch changes to a harsh tug.  “Ow!  Cas its fine; she’s a friend of my Dad.  Actually she was the chick who helped him get into the yard so he could nab me.”

“Why is she not in jail?”  Samandriel voices the thought that he and Cas both share.

“Sam said Bela plea bargained down to time served and community service,” Dean answers, sitting up to face Cas.  His boyfriend is not pleased.  “There is nothing between us anymore.  You –”

“Anymore?”  Inias adds from behind the couch.  Awesome, now he’s got an audience.

Lacing his fingers through Castiel’s and holding tight, Dean shrugs, “I’ve known her since we were kids.  My Dad helped her with a situation with her own father and she stuck around.  She never wanted more than a quickie in the Impala.”  Dean jumps at Cas’s growl. “USED TO, she USED TO be up for a quickie with no strings attached.  Not anymore!  The woman was on board to be one of my kidnappers, and I’m completely off the market.”

A death glare emanates from Cas but eventually alters to something softer as he nods.  He’s with Cas now, and his sweet angel should never have to question that, ever.  Dean leans over, kissing Cas on the lips.  The touch is innocent yet really necessary.  Cas may kill Bela for funsies.

“Should I tell her no then?”  Garth proposes, staying neutral.

The truth is Dean needs to talk with her.  She may be a bitch; however, Bela is also one of the few people that can really explain why his Dad did it.  Cas reads his face like a pro as the grip on Dean’s hand becomes lethal.  However, there might be a way to make this work.

“Can Cas come with me?”  Bingo!  His boyfriend’s face lights up; clearly Castiel wants to meet the closest thing he has to an ex.

The counselor twists his lips, deciding. “Yes, we can meet her in the commons.  I’m sure between the three of us we can get some answers.”

Apparently Dean’s not the only one who wants more information.  Dean and Castiel rise to their feet, trailing behind Garth as they make their way to the commons.  He and Cas grab seats next to each other at Dean’s lunch table.  Garth hangs back by the couches.  That man does a stellar job of not being noticed.

The door to the elevator opens, and Becky escorts Bela onto the floor.

“Thank you, Becky.  I will bring her down after,” Garth commands, watching as Becky nods, locking the door behind her.

Bela scans the room, assessing the competition.  Dean knows she’s trying to figure out how to work them.  She will fail.  Garth is amazing at his job and puts his patients first. Cas already hates her as the ex, and well, Dean is keeping his cards close to his chest this round.

“Do we really need an audience, Dean?”  Bela waves towards Garth and Cas.  “Haven’t you explained that we are very close?”

“Yes, if you want to chat with me then they stay,” he replies as she tentatively takes the seat opposite him and Cas.

“Jesus, Dean, you look like shit.”  Bela takes in his sling, the stitches over his eye and of course the mangled ear.  “I know for a fact your Dad didn’t do all this.”

“No, he just did this,” Dean points to his eyebrow, “and if he had been off by an inch –”

Speedily changing the topic she tosses her chestnut brown hair with a flirty smile, extending her hand to Cas.  “I’m Bela Talbot.  Dean and I go way back, can’t imagine why he needs such muscular guards.” 

Surprisingly Castiel shakes the woman’s hand then uses his now free arm to wrap around Dean’s shoulders.  He might as well have peed on him.  Bela doesn’t miss a beat, her eyes only widening for a second before she schools her features.

“And what’s your name, handsome?”  Annoyance is evident in her voice.  Her preferred methods of controlling men are falling flat today.

“This is my boyfriend, Cas.”  Dean replies kissing his temple for good measure.

This time Bela doesn’t hide the shock, “Are you kidding me?  When did you start swallowing dick?”

Dean glances over at Cas, chewing on when that started, “Cas, it’s been what, couple months with the swallowing?”

A sly smirk plasters on Castiel’s lips while he nods.  The hand on his shoulder sliding down to slip around Dean’s waist.  For a moment Dean forgets everything but the sensation of Cas’s hand claiming him.  Damn, that’s sexy. 

“Whatever, I’m not here to play tonsil hockey,” Bela quips, crossing her arms over her chest.  Her lips purse tightly.  “Your Dad sent me.”

His boyfriend’s hand clings to Dean’s side.  Suddenly Dean has lost the ability to speak.  It didn’t even occur to him that Bela would come bearing news from his father.  This isn’t fair.  Panic builds through his chest, hindering his capacity for breathing.  Cas’s free hand cups Dean’s chin, giving a gentle tug.  The movement yanks him from the downward spiral, but all he can do is glare at Garth for help.

Garth understands, crossing to the table and taking the last chair.  “Why don’t you share John’s message?”

“Cat got your tongue, love?”  Bela sneers, her previously kind gaze turning cold.  She’s almost behaving like a scorned lover, but they’ve never meant anything to each other.  At least on Dean’s end.  John used Bela to keep Dean on the "straight" and narrow, but Bela used him right back.

Bela sighs, placing her elbows on the table, “John’s lawyer has concerns that having both you and Sam working for the prosecution looks bad.  I told him Sam is a lost cause; that ass would never back down to get your father behind bars.  What about you, Dean?  If you refuse to testify there is a chance that he won’t go to prison.  You know time served for assault will ruin his career.”

“His career?”  Dean mocks the word, morphing into a twisted chortle, the idea that he would worry about John’s job is ridiculous.  “My father cracks open my head, tries to take me from my home and you think I give a damn about his career.  News flash, I don’t.”

“What the hell have they done to you in here?”  Bela counters, glaring at Cas, “the Dean Winchester I know would never testify against his Dad, destroying his life.  What’s wrong with you?”

“I found my life,” Dean responds his tone stern.  “This is Dean Winchester healthy, happy, and looking forward to the future.  The man you used to know was cold, angry, and consumed by either the job or alcohol.  This place gave me …everything.”

Silence slithers over the table.  Bela stills, deciding her next move. Dean isn’t stupid; he understands how she ticks and chess was always Bela’s favorite game.  She is literally the only person to ever beat Sam.  Waiting her out is best.  “Great, pin a rose on your nose.  Shit give me the date of the wedding; I’ll send a waffle iron.  Just stay here in your little bubble of drug-induced euphoria and don’t testify.  It’s really easy, Dean.  You stay here, play house with blue eyes and let your Dad go free.”

Garth interrupts before Dean can answer, “Why is John’s freedom so important to you?”

“He told me that he just wanted to talk,” Bela's eyes stay solely on Dean, ignoring Garth’s question. “I had no idea that he was going to harm you.”

One thing about Bela, she has this very clear tell when she’s lying.  It’s tiny, only years of playing poker against her has taught Dean how to spot it.  As he observes her, Bela’s right thumb twitches.  Incredibly faint but enough to complete the picture for Dean.  Bela knew the whole plan. 

“Was my Dad okay with the possibility of killing me?”  That has been eating at Dean since the attack.  It feels good to give the fear a voice.  “If Cas hadn’t pulled me back, I might have died.  When you were planning this with him did the idea of murdering me come up?”

“No, of course not.”  Twitch, twitch goes the thumb.  “His main objective was for you to understand that he loves you.”  Twitch.  “I think when you fought back it confused him.  So he made a bad choice in the moment.”  Twitching so much twitching.

“Why lie?  You are perfectly aware that I can tell when you’re lying, so stop and just give it to me straight.  Nothing you say will change my mind.  Please, as my friend?”  Dean’s not expecting a miracle, even though he had to try.

Bela searches the room.  Dean can sense the turmoil swirling inside her.  She owes John Winchester her life, her freedom, and the asshole has been leveraging that guilt for years.  She wants to tell, she’s just frightened. 

The counselor places his hand over Bela’s, promising, “Nothing leaves this room.  Anything you say will stay between the four of us.  I swear.  It’s important that Dean hear the truth, whatever you say won’t affect his choice to testify.  That decision has been made.”

Dean nods, waiting for Bela to spill.  She just needs one more push. “If he goes to jail, you will be free too.”

Tears trickle down her cheek as Bela inhales deeply.  Her hand wiping the moisture away every once in a while.  “The ultimate goal was to extricate you from the hospital.  John had a feeling you wouldn’t choose to leave on your own.  Unconscious, moving you becomes less complicated.  I did point out to him the night before that using the brass knuckles could be fatal.”

“What did he say?”  Dean begs.

“That either way,” she stares at her hands, wringing them together, no twitch in sight, “the problem is solved.”

Breathing, he just needs to keep breathing.  His peace will return one day.

“I was always going to testify, but now …now I’m going to make sure he gets the maximum sentence.”  Dean jumps to his feet pointing his finger at Bela as he shouts, “Don’t go back to him!  Run Bela, hide and don’t re-surface till the dust settles.  I’m finally going to stand up to my father, and you shouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.”

Bela’s head drops to her chest.  The sobs are heavier, “I can’t.  He owns me, for the rest of my life.  Doesn’t matter that he’s sitting in a cell or that you will be sending him to prison for a few years.  The damage he can inflict could be done from behind bars.”

“Bela?”  Dean comes around the table to grasp her shoulder.  “Do you really think he would hurt you?  Taking you down would be stupid!”

“You’re his son, and he didn’t think twice about killing you.”  The desperation drips from her voice. “I’m just a girl who has connections.  I gotta go.”

Hastily Bela gathers her purse, heading to the locked door towards the elevators.  She twists the handle, but nothing happens.  Bela starts banging on the door, “Let me out.  Please, I am so done.”

Garth swiftly crosses to her side, letting her out and following behind the distraught woman.  When the door finally closes, Dean turns to sit next to Cas.  His supportive, loving boyfriend takes his good hand, stroking the palm with his thumb. There is never a twitch with Castiel.  As usual Cas doesn’t speak but his eyes say everything.

Since it’s just the two of them, Dean answers the lingering question in the room.  “The body buried.  The one I said would be a reason my Dad would keep coming after me?”

Castiel nods remembering their journal entries on the subject.

“Bela’s father is the body.  Dad helped her hide her father’s corpse and has been holding her hostage with that information for ten years now.  I can’t tell anyone because it would take her down with him.”  Dean inhales, letting the oxygen flow. “Bela’s father did unspeakable things to her.  I won’t betray her.”

Fingers wipe away the teardrops slithering down his cheek.  When did he start crying?  Dean glances up to stare at his favorite person in the world.  The warm loving smile Cas sends gives the answer he so frantically desires.  Kissing his lover is second nature, and Dean will never get enough.  They don’t stop until Garth returns to walk them back to the hall.

****

Moonlight keeps the room from falling into total darkness.  Dean asked for the curtains to remain open for tonight.  He enjoys the full moon, there is something comforting about the light dancing across the black linoleum.  Dean would reach out to touch it, but his bum arm hides in the sling and the free one wraps around Cas’s waist.  Soft dark locks tickle under his chin as the two men attempt to sleep.  Both are failing because Dean’s watching the moon and Cas isn’t snoring, which means he’s also awake.

They’ve been lying in bed for a while now, but Dean’s not tired.  His conversation with Bela keeps his mind busy.  Cas taps his belly.  Growing up, Dean was never afraid of the dark. In fact he delighted in the ability to mask his pain and sorrow when no one could see him.  However, with Cas that’s not a possibility; light or dark his boyfriend always sees him.

Another gentle tap to his upper abs followed by a kiss to his shoulder.  This is how they sleep now, with his healthy side pushed up against Cas.  Scrunched together on the mattress, but neither one will move.  Not now.  This past month was a lifetime of too far away that Dean refuses to repeat.

There is safety in the dark.

“I am messed up, Cas.”  The words tumble from his lips, the shadows giving him courage.  “Obviously, we both have issues, but people I love hurt me.  My Mom, Sam, Dad, in one way or another they left me hanging; hurt and hollow.”

Cas hovers at his side but doesn’t disturb Dean’s emotional ranting.

“We need a better plan.  I can’t take you being here physically but ignoring me.  I don’t care that you were swimming in grief and depression.  Dr. Shurley says it would have been better if we faced our issues together, at least supported each other.  I want that.”

Dean turns his head from the window and kisses Cas’s hairline.  His lover nuzzles in deeper, listening intently.  “This is an equal partnership; that means when one of us falls we both go down.  We are damaged, maybe even cursed.  I have a Mom that chose death over me and a Dad who was fine with choosing death for me.  And your pile of family drama could fill the pages of all seven Harry Potter novels.  This is our reality.  Our life together will have ups and downs, there is no way around that, yet I can’t have another thaw like this one.”

A kiss brushes over Dean’s cheek, a nose ghosts over the shell of his ear and fingers link with his good hand squeezing.  Cas in his own way is apologizing.

“So here is my plan, and it’s completely up for negotiations.  I want us to be happy with it, able to use this system to make it through the rough times together.”  Another squeeze to his hand marks Cas’s agreement.  “One; when things get bad daily journal entries to each other are mandatory.  We can’t stop talking; that nearly killed me.  I need you.  Two; we must attempt to always touch.  Preferably sharing a bed and hand holding but when that’s not possible then just a hand on the shoulder or thigh.  Three; you can’t take off the ring.  If there is a medical reason, then I need it in writing before the ring is removed.  You broke my heart, Cas.”

He feels more than observes Castiel’s free hand wiping tears from his lover’s eyes.  Dean understands how difficult these words are to hear, but for this to work he can’t hold back, not now, not ever.  Taking a deep breath he trudges onward.

“We are in love.  But that will only save us from total annihilation for so long. If you are really in this for the long haul, then we gotta have a plan, Cas.”

Glancing down, he catches Cas’s watery gaze. “I can’t lose you.”

Shaking his head, Cas confides softly, like a secret, “I love you, Dean, but my life is a curse.”

His boyfriend stretches his neck up so their lips can gingerly kiss.  The touch is careful for fear the other one might break.  This is important.  Dean yearns for this man; he has every intention of spending the rest of his life with Castiel.  Growing old in a tiny cabin he’s built with his own hands.  Nothing else matters.

“I’d rather have you, cursed or not,” Dean sighs into Cas’s lips.

Their eyes meet, lingering as both men hold tight to each other and simply keep breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all so very much. Leave me a note I adore hearing from you.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	28. Courthouse Blues

* * *

 

 

The mirror reflects Dean’s weary eyes as he wipes the white cream over his face and neck.  Dean hasn’t shaved properly in years.  Gradually he drags the razor up his throat, reminding himself that it will all be over today.  His gaze catches the dark long hair of Ruby 2.0 leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom.  He’s not allowed to shave alone.  Dean pauses to roll his shoulder; it's sore without the sling but he will take that over itchy material. 

Noticing his discomfort, Ruby suggests, “You can wear your sling, Dean.  It might not be a bad idea with all the stress today.”

“Meg left two options.  Wear the sling less, recover faster with discomfort, or leave it on longer and the recovery time doubles.”  Looking over his shoulder, he says, “I don’t need a security blanket regardless of the day.”

He returns to his shaving, letting the scrape of the razor sooth his rattled nerves.  Dean scans the bathroom door, catching the charcoal fabric of his suit, tailored and pressed.  When he’s done Dean hands the razor to Ruby.  The concern in her eyes is heartwarming.

“I can still go with you.  I have a nice dress hanging in the staff locker room just in case.”  She smiles, placing the cover on the razor before stepping into his room.  “Garth would feel better with one of us there.”

Shaking his head, Dean calmly rebukes her, “Dr. Shurley, Sam and Jess will be in the courtroom the entire time.  I don’t need a babysitter.”

“What about a friend?”  Ruby asks patting his elbow.

Working the slacks off the hanger, Dean answers, “I will be fine.”

Ruby nods, tapping the tray on Cas’s bed. “Can I take this?”

“Yeah, he’s had his lunch, and I put the antibiotic cream around his port.  The infection looks better today,” he replies, grabbing the crisp white dress shirt.  “Have Gadreel move him into his chair. He’s more aware of the tube since I can’t tape it down until the rash is gone.”

She rolls her eyes, taking the tray. “You know we are perfectly capable of caring for him.”

Dean bends over, kissing the top of Castiel’s head.  “I am aware.” 

Straightening up, he begins to button his shirt.  He told Jess light starch, but the fabric is seriously chafing his healing skin.  Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers; without her help he’d be wearing jeans and a Henley to court.  That would not help his credibility.  He cards his fingers through Cas’s silky hair. God he wishes Mr. Comatose hadn’t shown up yesterday.  Dean needs him.  Although, with all the stressors lately no one was surprised, least of all Dean.  Inias was sure Dean would lose it, but honestly, he doesn’t mind Cas like this.  He would take statue Cas over the Cas who ignores him when he’s awake any day and twice on Sunday.

“The yellow primroses we ordered are arriving tomorrow.  I’m going to be pissed if you make me plant them by myself,” Dean huffs.

Dean would swear Cas gives a faint smirk in reply, probably his imagination.  Snagging the checkerboard shades of green tie, he sighs. Cas had Hannah buy him the last addition to his professional outfit. Even with Cas here and catatonic, he’s always with him. Dean’s thrilled that the collar of his shirt hides his newest mark from his lover.  Despite the noose and colt tattoos standing out like huge signs warning them of his violent ways.  Can’t win them all.  He’s slipping on his black dress shoes when Ruby the First storms in.

Clearly the blonde is prepping for a battle as she firmly places her hands on her hips.  “Why can’t the 2nd go with you?  That’s just mean, Dean.”

With frustration building fast, Dean rubs the back of his neck, and while running his fingers over his hair he notes a few stragglers Missouri missed when she trimmed his hair last night.  “Mean?  How is leaving Ruby 2.0 here to help you mean?”

“First of all, she bought a dress just for the occasion; second, she was going to text us with updates so we would know what’s happening, and lastly, one of us should be there!”  Ruby huffs harshly.

“Fine, but she’s got twenty minutes until Sheriff Hanscum will be here to drive us over.”

The bounce in her step is worth it as Ruby grins widely, “Excellent!  No worries, she’s just gotta change.”  Ruby exits screaming, “He said yes!  Told you he wouldn’t say no to me.”

“Have you ever noticed our staff is nuts?  I’m thinking they should get rooms of their own.”  Dean grins, sitting down next to Cas and slipping his hand into his boyfriend's, stroking over his lover’s knuckles one by one.  “I will be home for dinner.  Gadreel will put you into your chair and take you to watch the Die Hard marathon.  I’m kind of jealous. That is so much better than being berated by my Dad’s defense attorney, Don Stark.  Every time someone says Mr. Stark, I keep looking for Robert Downey Jr.”  Dean laughs at his own joke, because Cas would too if he were awake, he’s sure of it.

Dean doesn’t want to deal with the trial, or the lawyers, and really he probably looks stupid in this monkey suit.  He tilts over, permitting his lips to linger on Cas’s forehead and mumbling into the soft skin, “I love you.” 

Something is off. Pausing, Dean keeps his mouth still as he takes in how warm Castiel’s temple feels.  Immediately he replaces his mouth with the back of his hand.  He used to do this with Sammy when they were kids, remembering that the best way to tell is by comparing one hand on his back to the one on Cas's temple.  Definitely hotter; oh Jesus, not today.  Cas can’t get sick the one day in nearly four months that Dean is leaving the floor.  He’d been so careful with the infection near Cas’s stomach port.  Missouri took an hour teaching him how to clean the rash and apply the antibiotic cream, leaving it open to the air in case the rash was an irritation to the medical tape.

“Ruby!” he yells, attempting but failing not to panic. 

“You can’t change your mind.”  Ruby 1.0 saunters in, rolling her eyes but freezes when she sees Dean’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Cas has a fever!”  There is no hiding the shrill in his tone.  “I did everything right how could he be worse?”

The fun-loving friend is gone and turbo nurse takes over, shouting over her shoulder, “Cole, I need the med kit now!”

“I did everything right,” Dean repeats, running every step through his mind.  “I did it right.”

“Dean.”  Ruby 1.0 snatches his chin. “Feeding tubes get infected.  I’m sure you did everything correctly, but he can still get ill, okay?  Not your fault, do you hear me?”

“Yes,” he whispers, not truly believing her.  His mind still rooting for the mistake he made to cause this.

A smack to the cheek breaks his obsessive thinking, “Dean, repeat after me.  Not my fault, these things happen.”

“It’s not my fault these things happen.”  This time he listens.

Cole finally shows up with the bag, handing it over to Ruby.  She pulls out the fancy medical thermometer, swiping it over Castiel’s forehead, which now has a sheen of sweat on it. 

“Crap, 102.1.  Page Dr. Styne and get his wheelchair.”

“I’ll get it,” Dean answers, rushing to the hall where he left Cas’s wheelchair outside their door.  It takes less than a second before he’s back and starting to heave Cas up.

A hand grabs his recovering shoulder, making Dean shriek.  Ruby is glaring at him. “I don’t want two emergencies today.  Let Cole move him.”

A strong urge to put Ruby in her place is halted by the reality that, in fact, Dean can’t pick up Cas.  Meg was extremely clear on the matter, he can’t lift anything over 10 pounds.  His boyfriend’s muscular body definitely goes over that. Cole pushes him out of the way, moving Cas like a sack of potatoes. Dean wants to wail at him but things are moving at a chaotic pace, and the three of them are now flying down the hall.

Garth grabs Dean’s hand, forcing him to stop.  “Dean, you can’t go with him.”

“Fuck you, Garth it’s just downstairs.  I’m not leaving him alone,” Dean spits out, his breathing going jagged.

“Dean, even if you didn’t have to leave for the courthouse in five minutes I still wouldn’t let you down there.  Dr. Styne doesn’t need a terror-stricken loved one hovering while he works.”

“Who’s the nurse on duty?”  Dean knows it’s not Meg because he had PT with her before lunch.

Chewing his lip Garth replies, “Nurse Abaddon but, if you come back on the hall with me, I will page Meg.  I’m sure she can take over for Abaddon.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Dean gasps, sticking to Garth’s back until he listens to the counselor placing the page.

Five minutes later Ruby 2.0 returns not dressed for court.  “I’m sorry Dean with the emergency I need to stay here so the first can—“

“Watch Cas.  No that’s more important.”  Dean’s tone becomes hushed, “Don’t leave him alone.”

Gabriel and Gadreel flitter behind him, speaking quietly.  Dean swivels to face them, but Gabriel speaks first, “Don’t flip out, Romeo.  This isn’t Castiel’s first infection and it probably won’t be his last, so no freaking out.  Are we copacetic?”

“No!  I can’t go now, what if it gets really bad while I’m away?” Dean pleads; his gaze perhaps a tad wild.

Without further ado, of course Becky strolls onto the hall calling, “Sheriff Hanscum is downstairs waiting for you, Dean.”

The two brothers flank him along with Inias as Gabriel shoves him towards the exit.  “You can’t chicken out now, big boy.  Cas will be furious if you don’t testify over a simple infection that just needs a hefty dose of antibiotics.”

“Cas has to be okay.” Dean gulps down air, the lump in his throat growing. “I have no future without him.”

The humor and sass drains from Gabriel’s face, his mask falling to the floor.  Gabe cups Dean’s cheek, locking their gazes.  “I promise that it will be fine.  It’s physically impossible for Castiel to leave you; if the situation were reversed would you?”

“I can’t,” Dean pants.  He wants to shout how he could never leave Cas, how even the thought of not being there when Cas wakes up is ripping his soul in two.  This is real fear because Dean has unquestionably no control here.  “I can’t."

Gabriel pats his cheek. “You already took down one of our demons, today you need to do the same for yourself.  Make Castiel proud.  When he wakes up he will ask, and I assure you that you want one hell of a story.”

“Okay,” quietly slips from Dean’s lips.  He doesn’t want to go, but he does want to make Cas proud.

Becky’s oddly silent the ride down, but maybe she doesn’t want to spook Dean out of going.  To be fair, it’s not a bad choice because Dean teeters on the edge, and with one weak breeze he will be lost.  Sheriff Hanscum stands in the lobby.  Dean’s not seen her since she dropped him off ages ago.  She looks exactly the same from her uniform to her bright shiny smile gleaming right at him.

“Dean Winchester is now your responsibility,” Becky states with authority. “Please return him in the same condition.”

The sheriff observes Dean’s appearance, replying, “He didn’t look like this when I dropped him off.”

Dean simply glares at the floor, hoping an earthquake will tear a crater into the ground so large he will be forced to stay.  All remains well.  Without a word he trails behind the sheriff, taking the backseat.  His mind is overwhelmed with the sensation to scream, to shout, and find any way to be returned to his home.  Instead Dean stares out the window, watching the green pastures of the hospital's front yard in an utter contrast to when he arrived.  Little Falls is gorgeous in the spring.

“Are you having a nice stay?”  Sheriff Hanscum asks in her thick Minnesota accent.  He’s surprised none of the staff has one.

Tilting his head to the side, Dean ponders her question and really there is only one answer.  “Yes, it’s been …heavenly.”

She nods, keeping her eyes on the winding road.

****

The stone-colored tile under Dean’s fancy shoes has a crack.  Not a particularly large crevasse; it’s thin and runs for about half his foot.  However, for the past hour Dean has become obsessed with the ragged mark in the tile, dragging his toe up and down its broken spine.  The tattered old wooden bench creaks as he moves, announcing his twitch.  Jess has attempted three times to get him to stop, but he doesn’t.  Every ten minutes or so Sam steps out of the courtroom to check on him and give Sheriff Hanscum an update.  Why are there always cracks in the floor?

No one can tell him about Castiel; maybe they are worried he will go postal.  They aren’t wrong.  His meds are definitely not halting the crazy train today.  His chest physically hurts from the uncertainty of waiting and not just to testify.  He wonders how the crack was made and whether he can make it bigger.

“Dean?” 

He lifts his face, staring into familiar blue eyes and choking out, “Hannah?” 

“Hi.”  She smiles, full of affection and warmth.  “Gabriel called me, said you might need an update on Castiel.”

“Please?”  Dean whispers, his voice pathetically cracking.

Hannah retrieves her iPhone from her purse, swiping the screen a few times then turning it so Dean can peer upon a picture of Cas.  His boyfriend’s eyes are closed and there are IV lines in both his arms, but what makes it perfect is Meg leaning over him with a huge grin and a thumbs up.  The ache in Dean’s chest subsides a little.

The phone settles in Dean’s hands as Hannah explains, “That was taken twenty minutes ago by one of the Rubys.  Castiel’s getting fluids and antibiotics through the IVs along with medication for his fever.  There is no danger.  Garth promises that when you get back he will take you to the infirmary personally.”  She squats down in front of Dean, squeezing his knee. “I would have been here sooner, but Inias insisted I bring you something for luck.”

Dean’s gaze never leaves the phone as he responds, “What?”

A rustling noise touches his ears as Hannah searches her massive handbag, eventually tugging out a folded piece of paper.  “It’s not my best work, but my brothers were planning a full-scale mutiny if I didn’t get here in time.”

Glancing over for a brief moment, Dean chuckles at the sloppy sign written in gold glitter glue. 

  _Dean Winchester_

_Welcome to the Brotherhood_

“Your brothers are idiots,” Dean states, bouncing his eyes between the sign and photo.

Another squeeze to his knee, “Yes, and now you are one of them.”

Scooting closer to Jess, Dean pats the empty space next to him for Hannah.  Now he has something so much better to occupy his time.  He whispers to Hannah, “We survived the thaw.”

“You did.”  She grins, but this time it doesn’t reach her eyes.  A single tear slides down her cheek, “I’m sorry about …” Hannah looks away, “Lucifer.  I should never have sent that letter.  It’s all my –”

“No.  Don’t ever finish that sentence.  You were proud of us.  For once in your life there was something to celebrate, to share and maybe even brag about.”  Dean covers her pale hand with his. “There was absolutely no way you could have predicted Lucifer’s reaction.”

“I’m sorry you were harmed, but the other outcome was …good.”  An additional tear follows the first.

Dean rubs her hand tenderly. “It all worked out for the best.”

Hannah nods, a blank stare washing over her expression. “Not completely, but soon.”

Like a bull in a china shop, Sam charges through the door. “Dean, it’s time.”

Rising to his feet, Dean tucks the sign in his suitcoat pocket and hands Hannah her phone. The lump in his throat and the throbbing in his chest remain, reminding Dean that there are more important people in his life than John. His world is altering right before his eyes. The father Dean followed religiously, like a good soldier, has finally fallen from his pedestal and Dean has no intention of saving him this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and questions are always encouraged. : )


	29. Circles never stop, they just go round and round

* * *

 

Silence descends on the courtroom as Dean enters, his eyes sweeping the large space.  It’s a beautiful room with dark wooden benches, warm green walls and wide floor to ceiling windows.  The light from outside pours into the room, giving it a soft glow.  The judge is an older gentleman with wire rim glasses and white hair; the man tracks Dean’s movements as he trails behind Sam.  His brother stands tall as he saunters in, walking Dean over to the witness stand.

The judge gives Dean a worried look that he’s seen before. He knows of Dean’s commitment status, and he’s probably anxious that Dean’s going to lash out from all the stress.  A few months ago, hell a few days ago, that would have been the case, but not now.  Dean made a conscious choice to be here today and betray his father.  He imagined himself distraught over the treacherous act; however, as he places his hand on the Bible, Dean’s thoughts are solely on his angel of Thursday.

“I swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God,” Dean announces, slipping his hand from the holy novel.

Cas is fine, Cas is fine, Cas is fine.  The constant mantra loops in his mind as his heart spins out of control.

The assistant district attorney who is prosecuting the case rises from her seat as Sam takes the one next to her.  Ms. Atropos has straight, long blonde hair with thick black-frame glasses.  The woman is extremely professional to the point Dean’s not even aware of her first name, but she’s sharp and Sam has full confidence in her, which is good enough for him.

“Mr. Winchester, can you please tell the court where you currently reside?”  Ms. Atropos paces with her hands calmly folded at her waist.

Her questions are the easy part.  Nothing harsh will be asked until Mr. Stark gets his turn, so Dean sighs, answering, “Heavenly Host Psychiatric Hospital.”

“Do you recall being assaulted on January 27th of this year?”  She pauses to stand directly in front of him blocking his view of John.

This tactic was created by Sam so Dean can’t look his father in the eyes when he talks about the attack.  In this moment he should be sad forsaking the trust his father gave him, but instead Dean is downright angry.  With each word rage builds behind his eyes because the man sitting here didn’t care if Dean lived or died. So why should he be any different?  The questioning by Ms. Atropos goes by quickly and requires little thought since Sam had practiced with him multiple times.

Next the defense attorney for his Dad rises, and this is where life becomes interesting.

“Do you suffer from hallucinations?”  Mr. Stark stands still next to his father, forcing Dean to finally look at him but he avoids making eye contact.

His dad wears the old brown suit they bought together a few years back.  The material is cheap, and the fabric has wrinkles all over it.  Dean’s curious as to whether this was done on purpose because it makes him look pathetic and small next to Dean in his designer suit.  Doesn’t matter though, Dean has the truth on his side.  Glimpsing for a second he can feel the rage burning under John’s skin as he tightens his fingers into a fist under the table, tugging at the suit jacket that’s a size too small.  There is safety in keeping his eyes on his father’s hands even though the sensation of his father staring a hole into his head makes it hard to breathe.

“My hallucinations are trigger specific, as I’m sure Dr. Shurley discussed in his testimony,” Dean responds serenely.  He refuses to let his father see him upset. 

Don Stark smirks, taking a moment to shuffle some papers.  “What does that mean specifically?”

“My hallucinations revolve around my dead mother and nothing else.”  Sam had already explained to Dean that this would be an aspect that a good defense attorney would leap at.  If Stark made it believable that Dean imagined his father hitting him then one would have reasonable doubt.

“If they are figments of your imagination that no one else can see, then how would you know?”

Dean’s mind stutters trying to find a good answer, “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s just be frank here, Dean.  If you hallucinate your dead mother coming to visit, why would it be out of the realm of possibilities that your abandoned father would also visit?”  Stark’s tone is disengaged and cold, eating at Dean’s nerves. 

Crossing his arms, Dean leans back into the chair.  “He was arrested standing next to me.  That was not a figment of my imagination.”

“True.”  Again with the rustling of those damn papers.  “We are not denying that my client violated the restraining order to visit his confused son –”

“Confused?”  Dean shouts his hand slapping the wooden railing of the witness box.  “I was committed to a mental health facility by my brother to help me overcome the damage my mother’s death caused.  There was nothing confusing about it.  I know why I am there.”

The asshole winks with his next query, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to rile you up.  But perhaps the stress over seeing your father led you to believe he had attacked you when in actuality it was your roommate Castiel Milton.”

“What?!”  Dean rockets to his feet screaming.  “Cas did not nor would he ever hurt me.”

Dean is two seconds from jumping over the measly railing and knocking the attorney’s teeth out.  The picture of Cas lying on the bed with the IV in his arms is twisting in Dean’s brain. 

“Ms. Atropos, you need to get your witness under control," the defense attorney asks then under his breath says, “clearly he’s delusional.”

“I know what happened that day. It wasn’t a hallucination and it definitely wasn’t Cas,” Dean seethes through his teeth.

Stark pretends to once again consult his notes, such an odd tick but Dean’s fairly certain the attorney isn’t doing anything other than forcing Dean to stew.  Finally the man speaks, “Mr. Milton did attack your father correct?”

“First, don’t call him Milton he hates that name.  Second, Cas pulled my Dad off to protect me.  Those brass knuckles could have killed me if they had been even an inch further on my head.  He saved me.”  Dean catches Sam’s eyes as he mimics deep breaths; his brother is naïve if he thinks more oxygen will fix this mess.

“According to Mr. Milton’s records,” Dean may have growled at the Milton, yet Stark continues, “he’s had several violent outbursts over the years.”

The ADA pops up stating, “Objection, leading the witness.  Mr. Stark is not on the stand, and I don’t hear a question for Mr. Winchester.”

John clears his throat loudly, catching Dean off guard and his eyes naturally track the sound.  This is the first time since he sat down that Dean’s really observing his Dad’s face.  He’s clean shaven like Dean, his eyes staring him down as his father mouths two words " _Blame Milton_."  Unfortunately for John, Dean does blame Milton, just not the one his Dad is talking about.  Castiel is not a Milton.  Michael Milton is a monster, and yes, Dean does blame that man for everything.  He blames Michael Milton for Cas’s mental anguish, for the marks on Cas’s skin and even for the currently infected feeding tube.  If that bastard hadn’t tortured Cas, he would not have catatonic spells and thus be able to eat properly.  So yes blame Milton.  However, Dean has no intention of doing it to save his Dad’s ass from prison.

The judge looks over his wire rimmed spectacles. “Agreed.  Mr. Stark can you please stick to questions the witness can answer?”

“A simple yes or no would suffice,” the defense attorney quips.  “Did you see Castiel Milton beat your father?”

Speaking directly to his father, Dean replies, “I saw Cas defending me against my attacker.”

The older man appears livid, his knuckles going white and his jaw grinding his teeth.  Dean sneers a wicked grin at his Dad, hopefully leaving a blatant message.  He will never put his father before Cas. 

Mr. Stark taps the table with his finger, “Did you recently have an altercation with another patient in an elevator resulting in a man’s death?”

His gaze snaps back to the defense attorney, Dean’s mouth going dry as he mutters, “That was self-defense.”

“You seem to have a knack for finding yourself the victim, Mr. Winchester, have you ever thought that you’re the problem?”  Stark scratches his chin innocently.

Dean scans the room, praying someone can help calm the storm that’s erupting in his chest, but he sees nothing.  Of course he’s the problem.  But what in God’s name does that have to do with his father nearly killing him?  His vision goes blurry as Dean attempts to stop the waterworks from erupting.  Taking several short breaths, he tries to formulate the right answer.

“Excuse me, Mr. Winchester, you were asked a question.  Do you see a common denominator to all these horrid events?”  The cold-hearted attorney sweeps his hand towards John, “Perhaps you started both events to place yourself as the victim for sympathy or attention seeking?”

“No,” Dean hisses while gasping quietly for air.  At this rate he’s going to pass out on the stand; that will make a great case for his mental stability.  “It’s …not …my …fault.  None of it!”

The defense attorney simply stands silently, allowing Dean time to fall apart.  His hands are shaking and a tear dribbles down his cheek. This can’t be happening.  No, no, no.   Dean’s not to blame for any of this.

“Dean,” Mr. Stark begins, his tone timid like he’s questioning a small child.  “Isn’t it true that you were committed to the psychiatric hospital after nearly beating a man to death?”

Reaching out, Dean grasps onto the wooden railing, trying to stop the spinning in his mind. Dear God make it stop. “I was drunk and on drugs.”  He swivels to face the judge, pleading, “Please believe me.  My father tried to kill me. I’m not making this up. He broke into the facility with the sole intention of silencing me one way or the other.  I have never denied that I’m not well, but I know it happened.”  Dean sways side to side as his heart, stomach and mind plummet with confusion.  “It happened.  It happened.  It happened.”

“That’s all I need from this witness; thank you, Mr. Winchester.”  Don Stark comes around the table approaching the judge.  “Your honor this entire proceeding is based on the testimony of a very sick young man, desperate for attention.  He sees his dead mother and recently it has come to my attention that Mr. Winchester is in a sexual relationship with Castiel Milton.  I believe this coupled with his mental health issues are in fact impeding his judgement.”

Dean catches Sam’s face, and he knows he failed.  The sorrow in his brother’s expression breaks Dean; he just now realizes he’s still mumbling, “It happened” repeatedly.  He is crazy.  Dean’s let everyone down by not keeping his shit together for one afternoon; there is no excuse.  A hand touches his shoulder, jarring Dean’s mental anguish.

“Would you like to go?”  Dr. Shurley smiles.

“Yes,” Dean answers in a hushed tone, permitting his psychiatrist to take his hand and gently guiding him from the witness stand down the center aisle and out the exit.  He doesn’t look up.  There is no reason to. He can easily maneuver through the courthouse by watching Dr. Shurley’s shoes.

A silver Lexus SUV pulls up to the curb, and Shurley opens the back door for Dean.  He climbs in, scooting over so his psychiatrist can sit next to him.  Their hands are still touching; the connection is the only thing keeping Dean together at this moment. 

Hannah turns in the driver’s seat, “Can he go to the land first?”

“Yes, I think that would be great,” Shurley responds as the vehicle squeals down the road.

The passing landscape calms Dean’s wrecked nerves. He failed miserably on the stand, but the farther away he gets the pain in his chest eases.  The blue sky reminds Dean of his lover’s gaze.  Thirty minutes later the SUV parks in the middle of a vaguely familiar field.

The doctor opens his door, getting out, “What do you think, Dean?”

“It’s very green,” he jests, exiting on the other side.  “Why are we here?”

“This is it,” Hannah waves her hand in circles, “this is the land for the house.”

Dean spins around, taking in his surroundings.  He suddenly feels like something is missing, stopping to face Shurley and Hannah.  “What’s wrong with Cas?”

A million stories can be told with one look, and the sadness in Hannah’s eyes informs Dean that this next one is going to hurt.  He stutters on an inhale because his chest aches again but for an entirely new reason: There is something wrong with his angel. 

The sun shines down on him through a cloudless blue sky, but his skin is cold despite the warm weather.  Dean holds up his finger, halting Hannah’s response for a moment as he removes his coat, shoes and socks.  An urge to lie down and feel the grass under his back and the blades tickling his toes has him doing just that.  There is comfort here.  Hannah and Shurley lie down with him, their bodies like spokes in a wheel and their heads the center; this should be reassuring yet Dean’s body is trembling.

Both the doctor and Hannah take a hand, giving something for Dean to hold onto while Shurley explains.  “Dr. Styne took some scans of Castiel’s abdomen to find the source of the infection.  It appears the part of the tube just under the skin is degrading.  This is a side effect of long-term feeding tube usage.”

Cas is Dean’s whole world. He chose this man over his own father just a few hours ago.  This can’t be happening.  Why do their sunny days never last?  Clearly the other two people are waiting for Dean to comment or ask a question, but all he can do right now it focus on breathing.  So the three of them lay on the grass for God knows how long while Dean attempts to find the words that scare the shit out of him.

Finally, Dean whispers, “What happens now?’

“Castiel has been transferred,” Hannah replies, “to St. Gabriel’s Hospital in Little Falls.  At this moment they are operating to remove the old tube, clean the infected tissue, and insert a replacement tube.”

A nervous snicker slips from Dean’s mouth, “St. Gabriel’s?  Are you serious?”

“I know, I know, the name is not lost on me,” Hannah chuckles along. “The hospital has been here since the late 1800s.  I promise you it is merely a coincidence.”

Dean tightens his grip on Hannah’s hand, “Should they really replace the tube?”

“I have spent most of my adult life making medical decisions for my family.  Before Castiel had the tube, he suffered from severe malnutrition during his catatonic states.  I promise you this is the best option regardless of the complications.”

His hand violently shakes when Dean comprehends that its Hannah’s hand quaking along with his, multiplying the tremors.  “If this is the best decision, why are you scared?”

Her hand stills. “Because even though this is for the best, it doesn’t make it any less frightening.  This is my brother under the knife.  I want everything to be okay and 85% of me believes it will be, but this is us and our family does not have a good track record with happy endings.”

“I’m sorry …I’m sorry that I’m no help.”  Dean stares up at the sky feeling very small and useless.  “I totally fucked up my testimony against my Dad, and now I can’t ease your worry.  What good am I?”

Hannah pops up so fast it startles Dean, yanking him up with her.  “You, Dean Winchester, are extremely important.  Castiel loves you.  My brothers have a chance to leave the hospital during their lifetime to a real home because of you.  Don’t think for one second that I don’t consider you my own personal savior.”

“Dean, you did the right thing today,” Dr. Shurley adds, moving to face them.  “No matter what happens in your father’s trial, you testified.  You did the best you could, and no one can blame you if he isn’t held accountable for his actions.  I am proud of you.”

“Jesus, alright, why don’t you start the Dean Winchester fan club already?”  Dean blushes through his jesting tone.

“You joke, but I might just have to do that!”  Hannah grins.

Dean’s not sure if this is in the cards, but he has to ask, “Can I go see him?”

Hannah holds up her phone, “As soon as he’s out of surgery I will get a call.  Then the three of us will meet Jess over at St. Gabriel’s to visit Castiel.”

“Why does Jess need to come?”  Dean’s all for going but not sure why Sam’s wife has to be included.

Dr. Shurley clarifies, “Sam needs to stay at the courthouse.  However, according to your commitment papers, you can only be checked out by a relative and your sister-in-law was listed as a person legally allowed to do so.  If you want to see Castiel, Jess has to come along.  Okay?”

He glances around the grassy field, “What about now?  I am currently without a relative babysitter.”

“She’s currently in her car about a mile down the road,” the psychiatrist answers.

Suddenly Dean understands why he’s here sitting on the ground and not in a waiting room at St. Gabe's.  They had no idea how he would react.  Jess is pregnant with his niece or nephew, and she has to sit in a car a mile away because no one knew how the unstable psychiatric patient was going to handle hearing his boyfriend is having major surgery.

When Dean eventually glances at Dr. Shurley, the man lifts his shoulders in an apologetic shrug.  “You’re taking this much better than anyone expected.”

“Cas needs to be healthy.”  Dean stands up, memorizing the land so he can describe it to his boyfriend later.  “I can’t do that for him, but I can remain calm enough so that you will take me to him.”

Hannah’s phone silently vibrates in her hand.

“Now, please.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so my Writing Dom Kelly went to a con in Australia and asked a question for Misha. It was all inspired by my slight obsession with descriptions for Castiel's eyes. Check it out!
> 
> http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/post/145432394200/and-here-i-present-you-with-my-photo-op-with-misha
> 
> Questions and Comments are my happy place!
> 
> XOXOXO- Angie


	30. Defining Family

* * *

 

This is not what Dean was expecting; there should be a tube down Castiel’s throat and a beeping noise from his heart monitor.  At least that’s what 10 seasons of Dr. Sexy has taught him. Instead as he walks into his boyfriend's hospital room…  Wait, that’s not even right... as he enters Cas’s cubbie hole with a bed, he finds his lover sleeping soundly with Ruby 1.0 by his side reading Vogue magazine.  Well that’s pretty much par for the course with the Rubys.

Hannah goes to give Cas a kiss on the cheek while Dean remains standing at the foot of the bed.  Everything is pale and beige, which is not doing Cas’s coloring any good right now.

“Nobody could be bothered to give him a room?”  Dean snidely comments.

Ruby’s eye roll would impress any diva.  “This is the post op area.  The nurses will keep a close eye on him for the next hour and then move him to a room for the night.”

Stretching his hand out, Dean wraps his fingers around Cas’s foot.  He’d rather be curling up in the bed with him, but this is more like a tiny gurney and he’s pretty sure the two of them would break it.  At least Cas is alive and he gets to touch him, even if it’s only a big toe.

“When can he come home?”  Dean asks.

“The surgery went well with no hiccups.  Later tonight they will attempt to feed Castiel through the tube and if there are no complications through the night he will be transferred home around 10 a.m. tomorrow,” Ruby responds while giving her seat up to Hannah and moving next to Dean.  She bumps into his shoulder with a tired smile.  “And no, you can’t stay.”

Dean’s gaze narrows as his pulse rises, “Why not?”

“You can’t spend the night away from the floor,” Jess answers.

The woman has been standing off to the side quietly watching.  However, now that her charge is planning a mutiny, she finally adds her two cents.  Dean’s frustrated with his crappy day so he wanders over to the empty side of the bed.  He leans over, kissing Cas’s forehead gently.  His temple is cool. Dean lingers to scent Cas’s hair, coconuts.  His fingers glide over the top of his hospital gown till he touches the circular metal band underneath.  Cas still has the ring on, and a knot in the pit of Dean’s stomach unwinds.

“I’m not leaving.  You can report me to Sheriff Hanscum or the judge but unless God himself appears I’m here until Cas can follow."  Dean nuzzles his nose against Cas’s.

Dr. Shurley takes his spot at the foot of the bed, scratching at his beard. “Dean, there could be severe consequences if you stay.  One night away could be good for you both.”

Punishments be damned.  Dean’s unable to imagine a night alone in that room with nothing but his own breathing to keep him company, yet he needs to say it, “I don’t see any positive side to abandoning Cas.”

“You are not abandoning Castiel,” Shurley responds. “In a few months your stay with us will be ending.  Don’t you think a little practice of being on your own would be beneficial?  Perhaps you could see it as a trial run to being apart because once you head out, Dean, there will be months of nights alone.”

His gaze lifts to meet Shurley’s. “I thought maybe there would be a chance Cas could leave with me?”

The psychiatrist opens his mouth, but it’s Hannah who answers.  “I have been discussing the timeline for releasing Castiel and all my brothers.  He will eventually make it back to you; however, Dean you need to prepare yourself for at the minimum several months.”

“Months?  As in plural?”  Dean’s voice cracks with anxiety.  “He’s more put together than I am most days, and I can hire a nurse to help with his meds, tube, and catatonic state.  I can’t believe he has to be comatose-free to be discharged.”

Hannah rubs her eyes. “Dean, I would give every penny in my trust fund if it meant that Cas was healthy enough to follow you in August.  The problem is not the comatose spells. Think about it, my brother rarely if ever leaves the hospital.  He needs to re-enter society slowly to avoid a complete meltdown that could set all of this back years instead of simply months.”

“But I could help with that, take him out on little day trips, actually date my boyfriend.  Right?”  Dean smiles as his mind begins listing all possible dates with Cas not involving food, because that could be disastrous.

An uncomfortable quiet hangs over the room.  When Dean scans the space no one will look in his direction, which is extremely disconcerting.  Ultimately it’s Ruby who has the balls to respond.  “A patient can only be checked out by a family member.”  Her eyes shooting to Jess.

Fuck, how the hell can Dean convince the powers that be to view him as Cas’s family?  There has to be a paper Hannah or Castiel can sign, maybe just list him.  Dean cards his fingertips through Cas’s hair, pausing to scratch his scalp.  His angel enjoys his touch.  The space is quiet except for some movement from the cubbie hole next door where a beeping machine sounds angry.  Doctors and nurses scurry around trying to help the patient circling the drain. Dean breathes easy in the knowledge that Cas is healthy and safe.

Several minutes later a nurse takes pity on Jess, bringing her a chair from the nurse’s station.  Her stomach has a pretty little baby bump that makes Dean grin with pride.  Staring at Jess an idea grows.  Obviously they deem a spouse as a family member able to escort the patient off campus. 

The words tumble through his mind.  Spouse, husband, does he have the strength to make this work?  Actually the more he lets the solution ramble about the more he settles on his decision.  He places his hand over the ring Cas wears; really it would just have to be re-sized and located on Castiel’s left hand. 

Dean stirs when a hand shakes his shoulder, waking him up.  He’s fallen asleep with his cheek resting on Cas’s shoulder.  Lifting his head, he sees it's Sam who is rousing him. “Hey Dean, time to go back to the hospital.”

“I’m in a hospital,” Dean quips, wiping the sleep from his eye.

“Hardy har har smartass, they need to move Castiel up to his room for the night so say your goodbyes.”  Sam’s tone is kind but stern. His younger brother has clearly decided Dean won’t be staying with Cas overnight.

Exhaustion smacks Dean like brick. He doesn’t have the energy or strength to fight tonight.  Cas may still be in a catatonic state tomorrow and will never know that Dean wasn’t there in the morning, although Dean will and that re-opens the ache in his chest.  Rising to his feet, Dean slants forward, placing a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.  “I love you, Cas.”

Tugging his suit jacket back on, Dean stumbles behind his brother as Sam slips his hand in Jess’s and leads them both out to his car.  The drive back to Heavenly Host is peaceful.  Dean’s not angry; he’s just drained from the emotional rollercoaster he rode all day.

Jess turns around in the passenger seat, “Will you be okay?”

“I let myself believe.”  His gaze lifting to the light pink sky of dusk.  “When I was a kid the one thing I knew was that my Dad loved me and would always take care of me.  He used to hold my face and say ‘You are my boy, Dean.  I’ve got you.’  No matter what happened or how big I fucked up he would never fail to remind me of his promise ‘You are my boy, Dean.  I’ve got you.'”

A faint sniffle drifts from the front seat.  Dean can’t figure out why Jess would be crying but he keeps mumbling anyway.

“The day he broke into my hospital with the sole purpose of silencing me one way or the other, he crushed that promise.  But today I did the same to him.”  An agonizing grin fights to land on Dean’s lips.  “I intentionally chose Cas.  He wanted me to blame Cas to explain away the assault so he could run free, and I didn’t.  So, whatever the outcome of the trial, I told him that I’m no longer his boy, and I don’t need him to help me.”

Dean softly taps the window with his finger. “I let myself believe.  A part of me truly thought that when I was released in August, Cas would be able to come with me.  That I wouldn’t have to take the next step of my recovery alone.  It would appear that not only was that a stupid belief, I can’t even check Cas out to take him on dates.  I don’t want life if he’s not in it.”

The sedan violently screeches to a halt on the shoulder of the road as Sam whips his head around.  “Shut the fuck up, Dean!”

“Sam,” both Dean and Jess admonish.

“No, I’m not being an ass here, I am trying to get you to see the big picture.  Yeah, okay, when you leave Heavenly Host, Castiel won’t be holding your hand as the two of you skip off into a happily ever after.  You will have to wait.  Boo fucking hoo, you can’t be so selfish that you don’t understand how important it is for Cas to leave when he’s ready and not to placate your needs.”

Jess takes no shit as she pops Sam on the back of his head, “He just wants to be able to spend some one on one time with Cas.  That can’t happen if he only gets to visit Castiel in the commons.”

“Oh,” Sam huffs, pulling the car back onto the road towards home.

That’s not entirely true, but it stopped Sam’s tirade so Dean doesn’t correct the assumption.  Of course he would miss being able to continue their intimacy, but he also doesn’t want to wake up without a tuft of dark hair tickling his nose.  Dean will miss him.  There is something terrifying about not having Cas near him, listening to him breathe, watching him laugh, and Jesus the glorious moments when he shares his voice with Dean.  How in the hell is he supposed to start a life without the most important piece?

****

The absence of sound bothers Dean the most as he rolls over in his bed for the millionth time.  He left the curtains open hoping the moonlight could keep him company.  It’s not working.  The pale light simply personifies what’s lacking in the empty room.

He is utterly alone.

Dr. Shurley wasn’t exaggerating, the mere possibility that Dean will spend months sleeping alone might be giving him palpitations. He needs something to hold that will alleviate the anxiousness that maybe Cas doesn’t exist. Crap, he does have hallucinations, maybe Cas is one too? Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Dean’s mind races with anything that can help ground him. Make Cas real. 

A smile builds into a chuckle as Dean rushes over to his underwear drawer, yanking it open and retrieving the folded piece of paper inside.

The paper is undeniable.

The glitter is substantial and touchable.

The word _Daddy_ shining back at him is concrete evidence.

Staggering back to his bed, Dean grips the construction paper like a life vest in the throes of a tidal wave.  Dean lies back on his bed, placing the page over his stomach with the glimmering word towards the ceiling.  This allows him to trace the five letters over and over with his fingertip refreshing the mantra in his brain. “Cas is real.  Cas loves me.  I’m not alone.”

At long last Dean’s eyelids feel heavy and his finger pauses in its movement.  However, even in the deepest of sleep his hand never leaves the sign made by his boyfriend. 

The shadows of night dance across the wall when Dean stirs, opening his eyes.  A glance at the clock tells him it's 4:12 a.m.  He’s wide awake, and there are hours to kill before the door unlocks and Dean can rejoin the brothers to feel less lonely.  The sign remains cradled on his tummy.  Setting to stone the memory that Cas will forever be with him no matter what and in fact will be returning to the floor by lunch, perhaps his boyfriend will be conscious, too.

For now Dean has an idea on how to pass the time. Holding onto the glittery construction paper, he moves to Castiel’s side of the room and over to his desk, turning on the lamp.  Shifting several notebooks around, Dean finds their leather-bound journal.  An entry for Cas to read is an excellent use of all this free time.

Leaning the sign against the wall so Dean can spot it out of the corner of his eyes while he writes, he begins.

_Cas,_

_The world I lived in before I met you was small.  I had my Dad and the job, absolutely no room for anything else.  Alcohol and drugs kept the nightmares at bay, but it also halted my dreams because I had nothing to live for beyond my sad existence.  That all changed the moment you found me._

_I’m not going to deny that Dr. Sexy is my favorite show, not to you anyway.  Every episode there is a character who comes to the hospital torn and battered and the doctors fix them.  The surgeons build the disfigured patient new hands or discover a way to get the dying woman’s heart pumping again.  Heavenly Hosts Hospital is my own personal episode of Dr. Sexy._

_When I came in, my heart was frozen; my mind was shattered, and my soul was dark and twisted.  Then gradually over time Dr. Shurley, the nurses, and your brothers helped to keep me alive.  Putting my heart, mind, and soul on bypass.  Giving me time so you could create the magical plan to make it all better, and you were a success, my love._

_Cas with your love I received a new heart._

_Cas with your strength I stitched my mind back together piece by piece._

_Cas with your touch a transfusion of hope brought my soul back from the brink._

_I have a plan for the future because of you, and Cas, you are a vital role in every step of the way.  Without you the entire thing flat lines, and there won’t be a crash cart to save me this time.  So I want to make this relationship forever.  When the next shit storm erupts around us, let's be honest we are beacons for the doom and gloom of any intense hospital drama, I want there to be no question that we are together._

_Castiel, Angel of Thursday, you are my north, south, east and west.  No matter which way I turn, my Baby, it will be in your direction._

_The life we build won’t be perfect, there will be rough patches of madness and I will get lost on occasion, but as long as you are there, as long as you are mine, the path I take has no consequence because they all lead to you._

_I don’t have glitter, but it still means the same to me._

_Dean loves Cas._

_Dean wants Cas._

_Dean needs Cas._

_Dean and Cas Winchester forever._

_You rebuilt me from the ground up and for that I am eternally grateful, so please for the love of God share with me primrose love.  But don’t simply write it in our journal or whisper it in my ear for no one to hear.  Make it official and show the world that we are eternal._

_Take me, Dean Winchester, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, in lost and then found, living together or apart, committed or free, to love and to cherish and only in death do we end.  Pledging yourself to me._

_Castiel, marry me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys! Questions and comments are a great way to feed an author. ; )
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	31. SPEAK

* * *

 

“You want to marry me?”

The familiar voice stirs Dean from a deep sleep. He flutters his eyes open, encountering something odd blocking his vision. Dean moans as he shoots up to a sitting position. “Son of a Bitch!” It's really bright in the room, meaning the Rubys let him sleep in way past breakfast, he realizes as he peels the glitter _Daddy_ sign from his cheek.

He must have gone back to bed after completing his letter in the journal. Dean can actually feel the glitter that remains on his face. He’s fairly certain the _ddy_ is the culprit; that and maybe some fluids of his own.  His boxerbriefs are crusty, and shit, Dean hasn’t had a wet dream since he was 15, what the hell is Castiel doing to him?  Which brings his exhausted brain back on line to what woke him in the first place.

“Cas?” Dean mumbles, his gaze lingering on the figure standing in the center of their room holding the leather journal.

His boyfriend nods his head, pointing to the last question in his recent entry.  Yep, Cas read the note and now looks like a deer caught in headlights.  For someone who’s just been released from the hospital after surgery, Cas looks great, maybe a little pale but alive and able to read.

“I meant every word.”  Dean drops his underwear moving to face Cas naked.  “I know by the outside world's standards, this is really soon; we’ve only known each other for 4 months but we are always stating that this is eternal and forever. Why not go that last little bit and make it official?  We spend pretty much every second of every day together; that’s gotta double if not triple the emotional time frame than if we were dating out there.”  He points to the window.  “Which logically puts us more at a year, so what do you think?”

Blue anxious eyes dart around the room in panic.  Crap!  Dean has ruined the one good thing in his life by pushing too hard for something that would have developed eventually through time.  What does it matter if he can’t be the one to check Cas out?  Dean’s thoughts are spiraling out of control, attempting to build a wall of protection around himself before Cas ultimately rejects his insane idea.

Suddenly Cas tosses the journal to the bed, removing his white scrubs to reveal flesh that makes Dean’s mouth water with urges to caress, lick and stroke for hours.  Realization smacks him roughly when Cas doesn’t stop at the pants but strips until he’s totally naked as well.  No thigh sleeves or underwear, this is his angel completely open to him.  Dean’s reluctant to touch because Castiel just had surgery yesterday; he probably isn’t up for a romp in the sheets.

Gesturing to the gauze around Cas’s stomach, “What about your new tube?  Did they give any restrictions?”

Dean rakes his eyes over the unhindered view of all Cas’s tattoos.  The bluebells representing Hael over his heart, the crimson cosmos flowers trailing down his arms, and the empty spot on Castiel’s hip where one day a yellow primrose will be placed.  He can’t help but rest his gaze on the multiple long scars running the inside of his boyfriend’s thighs.  Dean’s seen them once before, but the painful story behind the harsh angry marks gives him a severe ache deep in his heart.

The gravelly voice that stars in Dean’s fantasies answers, “Nothing strenuous for two weeks.”

“Ummm.”  Dean glances between their matching erections wandering what sort of cruel joke he’s fallen into because sex definitely counts as strenuous.  However, he’s formulating a plan of action smiling brightly, “Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation Cas grins, nodding. His boyfriend holds out his hand so Dean can take it in his, guiding Cas to sit on the bed.  Kneeling between Castiel’s bare thighs sends a thrill through his body, setting off a parade of trembling down his spine.  Dean desires to simply touch all that Castiel so freely gives to him.

There is no fear in Castiel’s gaze, only pure faith and love that Dean hopes he reflects in his own eyes.  “I’m going to take care of you.”  Dean whispers his lips brushing over his lover’s mouth as he speaks, “You are the love of my life and no matter your answer to the question, that won’t change.”

A gentle probing tongue slides over Dean’s lips, encouraging him to open and deepen the kiss between them.  He obliges cheerfully. Dean’s fingers stroke Cas’s shoulders and arms, feeling his lover shiver with anticipation.  Dean leans back only a fraction breaking the kiss, “If you don’t move then it can’t be considered strenuous right?”

The naughty smirk on Cas’s mouth gives Dean the nudge to move on in his exploration of Castiel’s body.  Trailing chaste kisses down his lover’s neck and along Cas’s strong collarbone, he loves every inch of this man.  Slipping out his tongue Dean glides it down to his boyfriend’s nipples, rolling the bud over his lips.  Castiel’s breathing hitches when Dean reaches the gruesome word scorched into Cas’s flesh.

Warmth builds in Dean’s chest as he links their hands together, never wanting to let go.  Using his tongue Dean traces the letters _obey_ hoping to release the agony behind each mark.  Once he finishes Dean glances up to meet indigo irises. “You are free.”

Tears drip down from those beautiful eyes, forcing Dean to tilt upward catching each drop in a kiss.  God, Dean has never felt so in tune with another human being.  Eventually he lowers his mouth to Cas’s cock, swollen and hard, pleading for attention.  Dean licks up each side of the shaft before twirling his tongue around the perfect bulb. 

Castiel moans low and needy, his fingers tightening around Dean as he loses himself in the sensation.  Gradually at a painstakingly slow pace Dean rounds his mouth, sinking down Cas’s dick.  Moving their laced hands to Cas’s hips and holding them firmly, Dean knows his boyfriend needs to remain still or someone might call this vigorous activity.  Dean loses himself in the taste and soothing ministrations of pleasuring Cas.  His boyfriend’s hips stutter sharply as Dean swallows the cum flooding his throat. 

They are both panting as Cas shifts to the side, clearly wanting to trade places but Dean’s fine for now. He’s not done worshiping the body before him. 

“Don’t move,” Dean commands, dipping his face to Cas’s inner thigh.  He kisses every inch of every scar, ignoring his boyfriend’s whines.  His stunning angel shuffles his legs, trying to encourage Dean to focus on anything but the cuts Cas left himself.

Letting his fingertips stroke the jagged marks, Dean tilts his head upward toward his lover. “I love all of you, Cas, without exception.” He returns his lips to the cuts, dragging them down each one with delicate care.

Gentle fingers card through Dean’s hair while he moves from one thigh to the other; the movement slow and direct.  He plans on adoring this man for eternity.  Dean’s fixating on a particular long thick scar when Cas starts his story.

“We left on a Friday.  I had a peanut butter sandwich with an apple for lunch.  Hannah looked nervous as I climbed into the pickup truck.  It was supposed to be a camping trip, but instead we ended up at a cabin just south of the Canadian border, Michael, Lucifer, Uriel and I.  There was frost on the ground, so I remembered taking my heavier coat.  The entire ride there they talked about all the great fishing we were going to do and how Michael would teach me to be a soldier for the Brotherhood.  I couldn’t figure out why they had invited me. I had been questioning Michael for weeks about his beliefs.  It wasn’t meant to be rude; I was simply curious.”

Dean is motionless, his mouth hovering above Cas’s skin.  This is the most Castiel has ever said to him.  He’s terrified that if he moves even the slightest it will spook his angel.

“The cabin was old and smelled odd.  It would take me a day before I realized it was the scent of rotting wood mixed with mold.  The moment we arrived, they stripped me naked and tied my wrists to a thick wooden beam running just under the ceiling of the house.  For the first day they just left me hanging, basically ignoring my pleas to be let go or for food.  Uriel would bring me water, and eventually I had to pee.  They played poker three feet from where I was strung up and didn’t even notice as the urine ran down my legs.”

Castiel’s voice is monotone, like he’s completely removed from the scene he’s describing.

“I woke up Saturday morning to Michael punching me in the face shouting about how good Brotherhood children kept their mouths shut.  That questioning the elders and specifically him was against the will of God.  Lucifer was excited; his eyes lit up when Michael gave him the green light to teach me a lesson, then the bastard left me alone with a sadist.  As my older brother struck my body with fists and whips bit into my skin, Lucifer would tell me that if I remained perfectly quiet he would stop.  That the pain and suffering would end when my silence began.  Despite my best efforts, I always screamed and cried and so Lucifer would start again.  Each time he lifted his arm to strike me with hand or tool he would say, ‘Silence is golden, Castiel.  Quiet will make the pain go away.’  It went on until Sunday morning when Michael and Uriel reappeared.”

Tears are running down Cas’s cheeks, but he remains frozen, like Cas was a fragile piece of glass teetering on the edge of a table.  One slight bump and the glass would plummet, shattering the object into unrecognizable shards.

“For the first hour I thought maybe they would stop him.  Instead Michael chastised Lucifer for not breaking me, angry that I still was talking; how pathetic Lucifer was for not having the balls to do what needed to be done to hush the one angel who dared to fight back.  Michael took an old scalpel and carved the word into my chest.  I shrieked with each slash of the blade.  When he was done my vision was blurry from blood loss, but I couldn’t stop screaming.  The one thing I could do to stop the horror show, and I failed.  Uriel laughed at Michael, saying even he couldn’t shut me up.  That’s when they poured oil into the gaping wound on my chest and lit it on fire.”

Dean’s stomach twists so violently he gags, battling to keep his food  down.  Cas doesn’t even react; he simply tells the end of the tale.

“Fear of what would happen next silenced me.”  Finally Cas looks down at Dean, but his face is contorted in terror.  “They dropped me at a hospital after that, since I had shown my obedience.  Hester and Gabriel came to collect me a few days later, claiming I had run away from home and no one knew who I was with.  A sheriff from the local town was watching me waiting for a childcare worker to come for me.  Hester was a very pretty lady back then; she distracted the sheriff while Gabriel snuck me to the car.”

With a sudden urge to ease this terrible burden, Dean kisses Cas on the mouth, stroking the scruff on his boyfriend’s chin.  The kiss continues soft and tender, Dean allowing Cas to set the speed.  Then Cas slants back his eyes, glaring down on Dean.

“I never spoke again,” Castiel whispers, his voice cracking.

“Until now,” Dean replies, placing his hand over the damaged skin on Cas’s chest.  “Can I ask why?”

Cas places a chaste kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Why what?”

“Why are you speaking to me?”  Dean’s transfixed by Cas’s face.

“Because my husband should know the truth, and my husband should hear my answer.”  Cas drops another kiss to his forehead. “Yes.”

****

Castiel and Dean perch nervously on the couch in Dr. Shurley’s office, their hands linked tight in a show of solidarity.  Sam has been shouting for nearly 10 minutes, with no intention of letting up soon.  The windstorm that is Dean’s brother, stomps back and forth in front of the couple; amplifies the anxiety that is seeping into Castiel’s rigid body. 

Dean’s eyes catch the movement of sunlight as it drifts across the floor.  For a second he is taken to that perfect moment in the future; the future of his dreams where every day will be filled with sunshine. Today is not that day.

Hannah exhibits a completely opposite response to Dean and Castiel announcing their engagement.  She leans coolly against the wall by the door, a grin of approval spread across her lips while Shurley lounges in his desk chair, trying to calm the younger Winchester down.

“Sam, there is no reason, speaking as their psychiatrist, to stop them from getting married.  I have tracked their relationship from the beginning and feel it has brought positive aspects to their mental health.”  Shurley sighs. This is the third time the doctor has basically stated the same damn thing, but Sam refuses to agree.

The pacing man halts, turning to yell at Dean and possibly Castiel too.  “Four damn months!  You have known each other only four months! How can you tell me that’s enough time to make such a huge decision?”

“I don’t understand how you can be okay with us moving in together, but marriage is totally out of the question?”  Dean remains twitchy next to his boyfriend but is holding his ground on this.

“Because it’s their money, it’s their investment, it would be easy for you to walk away if it ended.  But marriage is a lifelong binding agreement that will take time and effort to break.”  Sam swirls back to Shurley. “How is this even legal?  They are in a God damn mental institution.”

Dr. Shurley stands, serenely clasping his hands as he goes to pause next to his desk.  “The patient’s bill of rights is upheld in the state of Minnesota.  In that document it states that patients in a mental health care facility have the same rights as any American, which includes the right to marry.  Now, until recently when gay marriage became legal, this was not an issue of two patients marrying.  Our patients are separated by gender, which meant only commitment ceremonies that had no legal standing could be performed.  I guess you could say we have found ourselves in a bit of a loophole.  Unless either you, Sam, or Hannah claim one of them incompetent then they have a right to get married under the current laws.”  The psychiatrist steps in front of Sam, stopping his movement. “Are you saying that Dean is incompetent?”

There is a suspension of time that aches in Dean’s bones. Sam doesn’t answer for several beats; he only breathes, glaring at Dr. Shurley in surprise.  After a horribly painful moment Sam shakes his head. “No, I do not believe that Dean is incompetent.  Completely stupid and so in love the man can’t see up from down, but no I would not make a formal complaint against him or the hospital.”

“Good.”  Dr. Shurley smiles, patting Sam’s shoulder.  “I think Dean and Castiel were thinking about mid-July for the wedding.”

Of fucking course Sam’s not done as he spins towards Hannah. “You are okay with this?  Castiel definitely has issues.”

“Hey now.”  Dean admonishes as Hannah shushes him with her hand.

“My brother is happy.  Marrying Dean would be the highlight to his life, so yes, I am thrilled they have decided to make it official, and I’m willing to pay all the wedding expenses.”  Hannah smiles so big her gums show.  It’s a nice look on her normally worried face.  “My family needs more happy.”

The room is eerily quiet as all involved give Sam a few minutes to process and hopefully accept what’s going to happen.  Dean has very little doubt that Sam will agree and even be his best man, because without his brother’s intervention this would not be his life.  He would be in prison most likely not enjoying it at all — perhaps even dead because Dean was hurtling down the road towards his darkest hour — but Sam gave him this hospital and the people in it.  Sam gave him life.

Dean’s opening his mouth, about to spill this revelation to his brother, when out of nowhere Castiel rises to his feet.  All eyes are on his boyfriend, nope fiancé, confidently striding over to Sam.  His brother tracks Cas’s movement like he’s waiting for the sky to fall or maybe for Cas to hit him.  That is not totally out of the realm of possibilities. The Winchesters seem to bring out the best and worst in the guy.

A single finger rises up to Sam’s chest, pointing directly at his heart.  Dean hasn’t moved a muscle since Cas crossed the room, and in fact he can’t recall the last time he inhaled oxygen but at this instance Dean’s certain he’s not the only one holding their breath.

“I love Dean, it’s not a phase that we will grow out of or change our mind.”  Castiel’s tone is stern but still beautifully kind.  Hannah gasps from the sound of her brother’s voice.  She hasn’t heard it since Cas was 16.  “Please, I need your blessing on our marriage, because I plan on being a Winchester forever.”

The world stops spinning as Dean prays that Sam doesn’t reject the love of his life simply because of stupid reasons.  The younger Winchester does not disappoint as he embraces Castiel in a huge bear hug that permits Dean to breathe again.

Sam’s response is hushed, merely muttered into Castiel’s ear, but Dean’s close enough to hear it, “You are a Winchester.”

Happy smiles abound as the gorgeous embrace breaks and Dean moves to thank Sam for his generosity in accepting Cas into their tiny family.  That’s when he spots the look between Dr. Shurley and his brother.  His psychiatrist is shaking his head solemnly; there is something they’ve been hiding from him, and Dean has a really good idea what that is.  It’s been just over a week since he testified against his father.

“When did the verdict come down?”  Dean asks the room, watching as Sam visibly flinches.

Castiel frowns, taking Dean into his now-empty arms and waiting for Dr. Shurley or Sam to answer.  The doctor wrings his hands, his gaze going off. “John Winchester was sentenced two days ago.  He was found guilty of attempted murder and will receive one year.”

“One fucking year!!”  Dean shouts, his body trembling with a mix of fear and rage.  “I went through all of that so my asshole father could get 12 months in prison and destroy his career.  He’s going to be furious when he is released and come after me.”

His brother steps forward, squeezing Dean’s shoulder, “Part of the deal so he would only get a year is that John can never contact you or be within 100 feet of you, Castiel or your home.  If he breaks that, he will immediately be sentenced to another two years.”

“Do you honestly think that will work?”  Dean pleads desperately, praying that he never has to see or hear from his Dad again.  “He’ll have nothing to lose when he gets out. I’ve taken everything from him.”

Dr. Shurley crosses his arms. “All we can do is wait and see.  I want to believe that your father will do the right thing.”

Dean wishes he had the same blind faith in a man that’s done nothing but hurt him.  However, he refuses to let his father ruin this for him and Cas. They are getting married, and that should be Dean’s sole focus.

Hannah pops forward, announcing, “Let’s plan a wedding!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGS TO ALL! Comments and Concerns are welcomed and encouraged.
> 
> XOXO - Angie


	32. Everybody wants to love

* * *

 

_Cas!_

_Please inform your brothers that they are not hand making the decorations for our wedding.  I know we agreed on the conference room, but that in no way means I want dorky-ass signs made out of glitter glue.  Also, on that note, I am vetoing Gabriel getting his officiate license online so he can marry us.  I want what everybody else gets, an old dude who is the city's justice of the peace._

_I spoke with Pamela, and she is willing to fly in the day before the wedding to do our matching tattoos.  She can bring her own equipment, so really wherever we want to do them she can make it happen.  I sent the photo of the yellow primrose you picked out, and she’s going to draw something up for us.  Give her about a week._

_When did my life become flowers and decorations?  I used to hunt down dangerous criminals, and now the big question is cake or pie for the reception.  I’m really leaning towards pie._

_Dr. Shurley was right, even with your new voice continuing to journal is soothing._

_Love you Babe,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dean, love of my life_

_Gabriel has already taken the two hour online course and received his certificate.  What are your real objections to him marrying us?  Have we ever done what everyone else does?  Please think it over for me.  He’s so excited.  Gabriel ordered purple robes to wear so he would look the part._

_The decorations will not look "dorky or ass" like; in fact they were going to attempt to make the conference room appear like a garden.  The glitter would be minimal.  Please._

_It is called wedding cake, not wedding pie.  If you would like pie served along with the cake, that can be negotiated; however, Hannah has found an amazing pastry chef from Minneapolis to make our cake.  We just have to decide on a flavor._

_Make sure to take time to study.  Inias said you are doing great. I wish you would let me help; I’ve been told I’m a fabulous teacher.  There are some teaching techniques I found on the internet you might enjoy.  June 30 th will be here before you know it._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_PURPLE ROBES!  That alone should be a reason NOT to have Gabriel perform the wedding.  Did you see the photo?  They have rhinestones.  How will anyone take our marriage seriously when our pictures will include a man in purple robes that fucking sparkle!!_

_Fine, as a compromise I will concede that your brothers will do a perfect job on the decorations.  Especially after I had a long discussion with Hannah, and she promises to control the glitter usage.  I do like the garden theme._

_What is this special teaching technique that you speak of?  Charlie has given me two practice tests, and I made above 90% both times.  No worries, my sexy fiancé, I totally got this._

_Cake.  Really?  I bet that "amazing" chef guy could do a tasty pie.  Think about it, we could do like ten different flavors.  We can let your brothers pick a few.  See then they could feel like they were helping instead of make papier-mâché flowers._

_Hannah said one of us should carry a bouquet?  Umm, I think a guy on guy wedding doesn’t need a bouquet.  Thoughts??_

_I noticed a tube of watermelon flavored lube in your sock drawer.  When were you planning on using that?  With me I hope._

_Our lives may be nuts right now, but you are my love and peace forever,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dean,_

_Yes, I saw the photo, and no, I don’t think the rhinestones look bad.  Let’s look at this from a rational perspective; this is a gay wedding in a psychiatric hospital, iridescent plum robes will not be the oddest thing at our wedding.  My guess would be Frank licking all the decorations and purring with pleasure.  However, Hannah just informed me that the head count is now too many for the conference room.  She’s looking into a tent in the back lawn with fans.  It gets pretty hot here in the summer, but a late evening service could be nice._

_I informed Hannah that neither of us would be carrying a bouquet.  She wanted to know what we would be throwing instead of a bouquet at the reception.  It seems that a baseball with our signatures would not be appropriate._

_What are you doing rooting through my sock drawer?  I keep your surprises there!  Well, the watermelon flavored lube is for the studying technique I mentioned.  Use your imagination, my love!  For each right answer you get a taste._

_I LOVE the drawing Pamela sent for our matching tattoos.  The added personalization for each one is absolutely stunning._

_The nightmares are back, Dean.  Have you spoken with Dr. Shurley about them?  Are you willing to tell me what they are about?  This notebook is our safe haven, so please, my love, have the strength to share and let me help._

_Mine are still the same.  Hael standing bloody at the end of our bed, begging me to save her.  No matter how hard I fight, scream, and beg my body remains frozen as she bleeds to death before me.  The only alteration is when I wake you are there holding me.  It truly makes a difference.  The pain will never fully vanish, but your touch makes it bearable.  Thank you._

_You are my everything,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_I am so sorry.  Our lives are so full of change I think my brain can’t keep up; it’s throwing my subconscious to the wolves.  The nightmares that plague me are always evolving but they include my mother choosing death and my father trying to kill me.  The imagery does not bode well for a restful sleep.  Yet, having your arms around me when reality comes flooding back in is not only comforting it reminds me of the good in my life.  My father can come after me all he wants, but he can’t take you away from me._

_Hey, perhaps you shouldn’t use a drawer to hide your vault worthy items.  Big reveal here, I actually needed a clean pair of socks.  Mine keep disappearing like we’ve got house elves doing our laundry.  I’ve changed my mind, yes yes yes, you would make a great study buddy. ; )_

_Hey, check out the sonogram taped to the next page.  That is the newest Winchester growing like a weed.  It’s a girl!  Sam told me when he dropped by to visit today and gave me a copy of the latest pic of his daughter.  Can you see her little hand patting at her nose?  Even in black and white with lots of grainy mess to see through she’s beautiful, my niece, actually after July 17 th our niece, is a looker._

_Sometimes I think about kids, how that won’t be in the cards for us, and surprisingly I’m not sad.  We have a great big family full of love and that’s enough, shit that is more than I’ve had my entire life.  What about you?  Do you regret not being with a woman who can give you children?  Will I be enough for you?_

_Just be honest with me Cas._

_I love you,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_Children would never be in the cards for me.  The focus necessary to keep myself together, help you with your issues, and keeping up with my brothers leaves nothing else to give a tiny human.  It’s been years since I’ve been around a baby, but I do recall them needing a lot of attention on a constant basis. I don’t think either of us would be able to give enough to the task to be an effective parent.  So it doesn’t matter your gender, children are not a viable option._

_Dean you are enough.  You are more than I deserve; every morning I wake surprised that you are still next to me.  My love, you are not a consolation prize but THE prize.  I’ve been running the survival race since I was a child.  Fighting through the horrors of abuse, battling the spells that take my days like thieves in the night, pushing myself through the nightmares and pain so that one day I can finally find that reason for it all.  Dean Winchester, you are the prize, you are the reason. Don’t ever think that I don’t see you as anything less than perfect for me because that’s all you ever have to be; mine._

_I doubt the hospital has hired hundreds of magical house elves to perform cleaning duties.  Although, I would agree that your socks seem to go missing at an alarming rate.  The next time Sam comes you should ask for more.  The floors get chilly even in the summer._

_Mental anguish in several forms, even nightmares, will always plague us, Dean.  There is no reason to be sorry for something neither of us has any control over.  Let’s remember what Dr. Shurley always says, change what we can and accept what has to stay the same.  I realize he stole it from AA, but it doesn’t alter its effectiveness._

_The sonogram is lovely.  Even though fatherhood would not be a good idea, the possibility of being an uncle thrills me.  Once we are both living in our home we should invite Sam, Jess, and the child up for visits.  I think it would be an amazing experience, spending time with a beginning human.  I haven’t done that since Hael._

_Gabriel and Gadreel looked over the plans Rufus Turner sent for the big house.  They love the layout but are concerned that the kitchen/dining room area is too small.  Can you have Rufus re-draw the space with more room heading out towards the backyard?_

_Dean I don’t understand your revulsion to the idea of matching white tuxes for our wedding suits.  If you hate the idea so much what do you want to wear?_

_I love you even when you shut down perfectly good ideas._

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_There is no way in hell I’m putting on a completely white tux regardless of the occasion.  No, I don’t have a better idea although I did like Samandriel’s suggestion.  Hawaiian shirts would look great and go with the garden theme.  Just saying it would be really cool on a hot day in July._

_I don’t know how you do it. In the middle of all that everyday chatter, you pause to make me feel special.  I love you.  The other day I sat watching you till in the garden, babying the new primrose flowers that we planted.  Do you know how gorgeous you are Cas?  Your fingers covered in soil strong but gentle digging about as you hum "Hey Jude."  I am an extremely lucky man because I get to spend the rest of my days observing the beauty that is my angel.  Your eyes sparkle when you're reading a favorite book and God, Cas, your laugh could stop traffic.  It doesn’t happen often, but when I am blessed with that sound it reminds me why there is a heaven._

_I adore the sunshine yet what truly makes it spectacular is when it shines through your hair giving the strands an auburn hue._

_I take the GED tomorrow.  If I pass that’s another X on the goal chart.  I’m nervous._

_Love you._

_Dean_

_\------_

_My Dearest Dean,_

_You left this morning to take your GED.  I know you only went down to the testing center with Charlie and Garth, but it’s like a piece of me left with you.  How will I make this work after you leave the hospital?  Dr. Shurley has been painfully clear that I must learn how to live without you before he will release me.  Any advice?  Our psychiatrist won’t give me any hints; he simply says I must figure it out on my own._

_I worry this was all for nothing that I won’t ever be discharged because …I don’t know how to make it happen._

_There isn’t a doubt that you will pass your test today with absolute flying colors.  You are brilliant, funny, handsome and successful.  Dean, you always rise to the challenge regardless of what you are facing.  That is a skill I admire in you.  You are the strongest person I know, and the fact that you want to link yourself to me permanently gives me the gumption to win the quest to be with you on the outside._

_Veto, on the Hawaiian shirts.  I understand that you would like the wedding to be less formal and I don’t disagree, but what is something that defines us as a couple?  Well other than hospital scrubs, but that would just be absurd.  Right?_

_Less than a month until the big day.  Are you ready?_

_I love everything about you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_CAS!_

_I did it! I know I told you, but this is so fucking amazing I wanted to write it down too.  The test scores have come back and it's official, I passed with a 93.  I, Dean Winchester, now have a High School diploma.  Sam was so excited he dropped his phone, the silly sap._

_Okay, why not white scrubs?  We are getting married in a hospital.  Our entire relationship was born and developed within these institutional walls; why not dress the part?  Or we could order black ones to make them fancy.  Think about it, I would prefer Gabriel in purple scrubs to the atrocity of those ugly wizard robes._

_You can figure it out Cas.  The answer is in there; I’m counting on it. Shit, our entire future is a huge bet that the house won’t win.  That you will come out swinging after I leave and find your own footing so you can join me on the outside.  Take all the time you need.  Our marriage will last forever, and I have faith that you will eventually join me on our land.  Cas, do what needs to be done and don’t stress because I’ve waited 30 years to find you, and I’m not going anywhere._

_The next two months will be a whirlwind that might shake our world.  We are getting married in a few weeks; Jess will have the baby, and then on August 27 th we will live apart for a time.  These are all good things, Cas, and then the best will be when you can join me in the next step of our lives.  _

_Let’s simply take a breath and love, because at the core it’s all we need._

_PS – Seriously where are my damn socks?!_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_The scrubs idea has been approved by all and now seems to have become a theme for our guests as well.  Hannah has found a rainbow pair she loves; Gabriel has found a purple pair with unicorns, and I ordered a bright yellow pair for me.  Dean what do you want?  Personally I think a nice emerald green would be breathtaking on you._

_The wedding is two weeks away.  I’m so excited my teeth chatter at night.  This is actually happening, in less than 14 days you will be my husband with all the amazing perks that go with it.  Thank you, Dean, for the future we will have together and taking on not just me but all my brothers and sisters.  Speaking of which, did you hear?  Hannah pleaded with Anna’s psychiatrist, and she agreed to let her come to the wedding.  I haven’t seen Anna in over a decade, not since the state committed us to the psych ward at St. Gabriel’s until this place was built.  The one missing piece is Hael, but she will be in here in spirit._

_I changed my mind.  Would you be against me carrying a bouquet of bluebells?  It would mean the world to me._

_OH! Everyone loves the most recent designs for the house. Mr. Turner said his company can break ground on the house September 1 st.  He and Sam are in negotiations about the timetable for completion.  I want to know that date.  Perhaps make it a personal goal to be there for the final reveal of our first home._

_By the way, Hannah will have everything set up for you on August 27 th._

_Time keeps on ticking, but I don’t know which is worse.  The faster it goes, the closer we get to our wedding but also the closer we get to saying goodbye._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_My Cas,_

_I think it would be perfect if you carried a bouquet of bluebells.  Hael should be represented at our wedding.  Actually, I’m pretty nervous to meet Anna, the one sibling that is still a mystery.  Whenever I ask Hannah about her she just changes the topic. Is there a reason that Hannah would not want me to meet her?_

_I am not telling you what my scrubs will look like, it's bad luck._

_What do you mean by everything set up?  Cas, I am a grownup who has lived in the real world; I am capable of finding an apartment.  I’m not opposed to help, but what exactly is she doing?  Surprises from your family members can be quite painful.  Just ask her for me, she loves hearing your voice.  Dude, she still gets misty eyed every time you say hello.  Although, I haven’t forgotten that your still gun shy with the talking, but practice makes perfect, my love._

_Pamela called and she found a tattoo parlor about 30 minutes from the hospital.  Jess and Hannah will pick us up and take us for our tattoos.  I’m finally filling the hole in my tree.  This feels so right because you have filled so many voids in my life that completing this last one is just what I’ve always wanted._

_All we can do is keep breathing.  Life doesn’t stop, and I don’t want it to._

_Cas you wrote that I was your prize, well right back at ya, buddy.  For me it’s not about one day but the entire journey in front of us.  Yes it will suck when I leave, but then it will make the day you get to come home to me that much better.  However, don’t forget that we will e-mail, talk on the phone (when you feel up to it) and I will be allowed to check you out once a week.  You can’t call it goodbye when it’s only a slight location change._

_We will always be together, Cas.  Now and forever._

_I love my husband to be,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dean_

_Anna suffers from severe delusions, mainly voices in her head.  I think Hannah is more nervous about her scaring you away than the other way around.  She can escalate to violence quite hastily._

_Quit asking about what Hannah has prepared for your re-entry into society.  It’s a surprise!  Which by definition alone should explain why I will not give "hints" or play charades until you get it right.  Yes, you are a grown man (which I appreciate) and thus can handle letting my sister surprise you.  It’s not like Gabriel, where you have to worry about damage to your groin or other bodily damage with his bushwhack method of brotherly love._

_You are my happily ever after with glitter, sparkles, rainbows and unicorns.  But most of all you are my yellow primrose love._

_Castiel_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we excited? 
> 
> XOXOXO- Angie


	33. Primroses and Bluebells

 

 

The luxury SUV pulls up in front of the tattoo parlor. It’s one of those glass-front strip-mall deals with the name of the shop painted across the door, Darken Little Falls Tattoo.  Dean thinks the name is pretty cool and one he will always remember.  He and Cas climb out first, trailed quickly by Hannah and Jess.  After tomorrow only one of them will be needed to check them out since they will all be family.

Pamela spots them immediately as they enter the shop, waving as she saunters to stand on the other side of a black lacquered front desk.

“How’s my sexiest client?” Pamela says with a husky breath.

Cas wraps his arm around Dean tugging him tightly to his side. Obviously the "mine" is completely implied.

“Pamela, nice to see you again, this is Cas, my fiancé,” Dean announces, placing a kiss to Castiel’s temple for good measure. His lover isn’t usually this spooked, but Pamela can be very flirty.

Coming around the desk, Pamela stretches out her hand to Cas. “Honey, me and Dean go way back, but I know a taken man when I see one.”

Grasping her hand roughly, Cas nods. Pamela grins.  She is perfectly aware that Cas doesn’t really talk.  His speech has grown of late, but only in small groups and known settings; an unfamiliar tattoo parlor in front of a stranger means Dean is pretty sure he’ll be doing all the communicating.

“The big day is tomorrow?” Pamela waves between them.  “Y’all set?”

“Yep,” Dean responds, kissing Cas’s knuckles. “Dropped by the courthouse first thing this morning to get the marriage license.  All our ducks are falling into line.”

“Wow, you said the word marriage license without a hint of impending cold feet,” the tattoo artist chuckles at her own joke.

“Who do you want first?” Dean asks, stepping between them to break the impending death glare from Cas.

“I think blue eyes here looks rearing to go.” Pamela tosses her head towards the back of the shop.  “I’ve got a private room in the back to work.  Should be big enough for the entire posse.”

Hannah chuckles as the four of them wander through the main area. Dean loves this part.  The anticipation mixed with excitement makes his heart pump so loudly he can hear it, add it to the buzzing sound coming from the different artists' working and Dean almost feels a contact high.  He knows the place is great because it’s so clean there is a complete lack of smell.  Someone keeps a tight ship, and that just makes the experience that much better.  Although, the highlight is the music sweeping through the space, "Uprising" by Muse.  It’s not his classic rock, but it will do nicely in a pinch.

Once they are in the room, Pamela closes a black curtain blocking out the rest of the patrons and artists. She rolls a stool over to the table, patting the soft red leather.  “Alright, handsome, shirt off, pants low on those razor sharp hips so I can see where we are putting this absolutely amazing piece of art.”

Castiel’s wearing a vintage Led Zeppelin t-shirt and thigh-hugging jeans, both recently purchased by Dean with the help of Jess. His fiancé is fucking HOT and giving the world a little taste of what Dean’s marrying just puts a smile on his face.  Cas obeys, handing his shirt to Hannah but leaving on his black tank top, which covers all the harsher marks properly.  Hannah swings the fabric over her shoulder as she helps Jess settle into the red leather love seat in the corner; with a month left in her pregnancy Jess is huge.  Dean chews his inner cheek as Cas rucks up the tank to his belly button and unzips his jeans, pulling them down to way below the mark on his hips where the tat is going to go.

Pamela’s gaze drags down Cas’s body; she licks her lips as she snags the stencil. “Now that I’ve got a better look, I gotta say Dean is definitely the lucky one here.”

His fiancé actually preens a bit, winking at Dean but he can’t find fault in Pamela’s statement, Castiel is the very definition of drop dead gorgeous.

“Okay Cas, how does this look?” Pamela hands Cas a mirror so he can get a good view of the tattoo’s placement.

The tattoo is absolutely fucking perfect. A single yellow primrose with soft delicate petals and an emerald green stem twisting towards Cas’s happy trail.  Dean’s favorite part of the design is his name curving inside the green stem flowing with the flower.  He will always have a place on his husband.

Castiel bounces his head, thrilled with the artwork, than gets comfortable on the table for the long painful process of making it permanent. Dean drags a black chair over so he can hold Cas’s hand. 

After an hour Jess gets up to stretch her legs, coming to stand behind Dean to watch.

“Are those bluebells?” Jess questions, pointing at the older tattoo peeking out the edge of his black top.

Using his free hand, Dean moves the material just enough so he can trace the three flowers spilling over Cas’s heart. Dean can’t help smiling.  “Yes, the bluebell means kindness in flower speech.”

Jess laughs, her big belly shaking with the movement. “What is flower speech?”

“You can use flowers to say things in a bouquet,” Dean responds, glancing up at his sister-in-law. “Cas taught me.”

“So why kindness?” Jess’s query is innocent, but Dean knows it’s like kicking over an anthill there is so much chaos beneath the surface.

It’s not surprising that Hannah interjects. “We had a sister who died very young.  Her name was Hael, which actually means Angel of Kindness, so Castiel had the tattoo commissioned in her memory.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jess mutters, absent-mindedly rubbing her stomach. “Hael is a pretty name.”

“She was a beautiful girl.” They all jump at the words coming from Castiel’s unused voice.

Dean still isn’t comfortable when Cas drops word bombs in front of other people. Not that he wants Cas’s voice all to himself, but never mind that’s exactly what Dean wants.  Jess stands stock still, her eyes darting about waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Hannah grins from ear to ear like someone just handed her a million bucks. 

A serene peace swirls through the space, the buzzing from the ink-filled needle the sole sound. Dean cards his fingers through Cas’s hair, whispering crude comments into his ear.  All the things he plans to do to Cas tomorrow night and all the reasons he’s special to Dean.  If Pamela can hear him she’s not letting on as the needle slowly works its magic over his husband-to-be’s skin. Eventually Pamela finishes Cas, and it looks amazing.  The tingling of his body reminds Dean that he’s up next, and he tugs off his shirt with enthusiasm.

The two men swap a chaste kiss as they switch positions. Cas navigates his movements trying not to jostle the angered flesh.  Pamela swiftly places the stencil she will follow with the needle; the tree is her own design so the woman knows exactly how to place it.

When Pamela hands him the mirror to check out the stencil of his own tattoo, Dean inhales deeply before taking his first peek. Seeing the massive tree on his chest completed nearly brings Dean to tears.  The same single yellow primrose with an emerald green stem twists downward.  One difference between his and Cas’s tat is that Dean’s also has a bumble bee hovering just over the gentle bright petals and the wings of the bee are altered enough to spell CAS.

“Go to work,” he grouses because there are too many emotions swirling around in his mind and heart to let anything spill out.

He started this tattoo with Pamela a decade ago when he was young and stupid. Dean recalls his need to fill the empty oval with someone his Dad would be proud to call family. Well, Dean sort of went sideways on that one. The bite of the needle drilling into his skin tugs him from the sinister thoughts of his past.  Jesus, the world was so wrong even back then; all the choices Dean made at 20 were to please his old man. 

The tickle of Cas’s fingers patting away a tear startles Dean. His fiancé is mouthing "you okay?"  How can he put these thoughts into words?  What can he say that will get even close to explaining to Cas how important he is to Dean, how his life is not only better with the bee hovering in the center of his chest but all the dark shadows of his past seem to slide back into the darkness.  Cas is the sun, and Dean will spend eternity orbiting him. 

Instead he opts for “I’m good.”

After a long, testing session the tattoo is complete, and Dean sighs. Not really because the pain is over but this will be far more permanent then a marriage license.  Cas is a part of the tree holding the same reverence as Sam and his mom. 

“Flawless work, Pam.” Dean sighs, turning to catch Cas’s reaction.  The grin on his fiancé’s lips tells him everything.  Cas loves it.

After all the new art is doused with cream and covered, the posse starts towards the door. Pamela snags Dean’s hand, pulling him off to the side.  Her eyes are serious as she crosses her arms.

“I just need to say something before you vanish again,” Pamela states, her eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

Dean sighs, leaning against the wall, “I didn’t vanish. I have been in a psychiatric hospital.”

“That makes sense but man, don’t do it again.” She pops him on the shoulder with her fist.  “I’ve been worried sick. You always return my emails.”

Swallowing hard, Dean grows the balls to reply, “I have Cas now. This is my forever.”

Rolling her eyes, Pamela puffs out, “I can see that, Dean, but it doesn’t mean you have to forget your friends. Cas will allow you to keep your friends, right?”

“Yes, he’s awesome like that.” Dean gives her a warm embrace whispering into her ear.  “I love him.”

There are tears in her eyes as Dean waves goodbye, heading out the door of the shop and making a mental note to drop her an email every once in a while. Then an idea occurs that has him turning back to yell, “Hey wanna come to the wedding?  It’s tomorrow. I can email you the info.”

“There ya go, asshole! I will be there with my best spiked collar.”  The smile on Pamela’s lips is just what Dean needed.

The drive back is quiet as the late afternoon sun slips behind the tree line. Jess furiously texts on her phone as Cas lays his head on Dean’s shoulder.  Contentment is something Dean lacked in his life before his world took a dramatic right turn.  He traces a crimson flower on Cas’s arm.  Now the satisfaction and bliss from his angel simply resting his forehead on him is more important to him than air.  Tomorrow evening he will marry the man who brought him back to life; that alone is a miracle.

Dean observes the little houses as they zoom past his backseat window. He turns, giving Cas a tender kiss.  “We never decided about tonight?”

Curious wide eyes shoot back at Dean as Cas’s brain catches up to the conversation. Dean can literally spot the moment that Cas comprehends what he’s asking. Should they do the traditional thing and spend tonight in separate rooms?  Kevin proposed one of them staying with him for the night and told Dean this morning that the second bed was made and ready for a visitor.

His fiancé shrugs, his nose scrunching with indecision. This shouldn’t be hard but they have so few nights left before the 27th rolls around that the mere suggestion of spending the night with a wall separating them sounds awful.

“I was thinking maybe we do a compromise,” Dean offers, squeezing Cas’s hand. The tiny houses vanish as Hannah takes the last turn down the long drive towards home.  “We sleep in the same room like we always do, but in our own beds.  That way we can see but not touch until after the wedding.  I want our first night as husbands to be special, yet the thought of not listening to you sleep kills me a little.”

A wide smile spreads across Cas’s kissable lips, “Yes.”

Jess immediately speaks up from her spot in the passenger seat. “Sam and I would like you all to consider something.”  She pauses as Hannah pulls the vehicle into a parking spot in front of the hospital.  “Would you or your other family members be opposed to us naming our daughter Hael?”

Dean glimpses Cas’s face as he lights up, nodding profusely. Hannah answers out loud, “We would be honored to have the name live on; trust me, all my brothers would agree.”

****

Here’s the thing, when Dean decided to not touch Cas until after the wedding he didn’t really think through all the consequences, because saying you can’t have something just makes you want it more. Obviously the second Dean and Cas reach the floor, his fiancé takes the rule to extremes.  Cas won’t let Dean hug, kiss, or even fucking hold his hand.  They watch three hours of back-to-back Dr. Sexy reruns on TNT with Cas on one end of the sofa and Dean on the other.

Dean realizes how stupid his idea is around the time he heads to their room for the night to find Gabriel bent over on the floor, flashing his butt crack.

“Jesus, Gabe, get a belt!” Dean shouts trying to grasp what the man is doing on his floor.

Gabriel shrugs, “No can do, almost brother of mine. Belts are not allowed, which leads to infinite amounts of crack on the hall.”

That’s when Dean gets a clear view of Gabriel’s handiwork. Green duct tape runs through the center of their room.  “What the hell is that for?”

“Ah, Castiel wanted a clear line to keep you in check tonight. The only time the boundary can be crossed is for bathroom purposes, which can be done one at a time tonight, big guy,” Gabriel explains, standing to face Dean.  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but Castiel really wants your wedding night to be special.  If it helps, I gave him a 500ml bottle of strawberry flavored lube.  You newlyweds can go at it till your cocks fall off with no chafing worries.”

“Dude, I’m not discussing my sex life with you.” Dean scrunches his face in disgust.  Then he acknowledges the party foul, “But thank you for the lube, that will be highly appreciated.”

“You’re welcome,” Gabe yells over his shoulder as he exits. “See ya tomorrow.  I’ll be the one up front.”

Dean sighs, shaking his head, “I will see you at breakfast Gabriel.”

“Well, then too.” With that the small feisty man hums down the hall, giving his brothers hugs goodnight.

Dean perches on the edge of his bed, poised and ready to strike when Cas enters because this is way out of line. Sleeping in separate beds is one thing, but total denial of anything resembling a touch is giving Dean anxiety.  A few minutes later Cas comes in, steering to his side of the green line and smiling before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Falling back on his bed, Dean’s suddenly torn. This was in a way his idea and Gabe has a point; Castiel really seems serious about wanting their first touch to be as they walk each other down the aisle.  It’s one fucking night, how hard can it be?  Dean eases his stress thinking about all the awesome things he will do to Cas, especially with a shit ton of high-quality lube.

“This will be a breeze,” Dean whispers to the silent room, and it appears the room agrees with him.

Nope, no, not even a little bit easy.

Once Castiel leaves the bathroom, he takes a seat at his desk and starts writing in Gabriel’s journal. The guy is slaughtering Dean by only wearing his blue pajama bottoms.  All that exposed skin sings to Dean; he needs to stroke, touch, and lick every inch.  He can’t help it, Dean spends the next hour glaring at Castiel’s body. 

The gravelly, sexy voice jars Dean from his fantasy, “Dean, you are making this difficult.”

“Good. I feel like you’ve taken away my favorite drug.  The withdrawal may kill me,” Dean replies. Cas whips around with a pissed look, but he says nothing, grabbing a book and climbing into his bed. The one all the way over on the other side of the room.

Well two can play at this game. Dean smirks, down and dirty with a glint in his eye.  Taking in a deep breath and letting it out gradually he stands, tugging off his shirt; watching as the fabric drifts to the linoleum.  His fingers tickle the button of his jeans, opening them playfully.  Cas’s face remains pointed towards his novel but Dean’s not stupid, the other man’s gaze keeps tracking his movements.  Dragging his hands down his torso and over his hips, he yanks his jeans and boxers down together. Dean shimmies his ass, helping the denim slide down his body.  There really isn’t a sexy way to remove socks. Dean takes his best shot, twirling so his ass is in Castiel’s direction then bending over to remove the last of his clothing.

A faint gasp from the other bed makes Dean shine with pride. Spreading his thighs just a tad allows Dean a nice view of Cas; his lover's mouth is gaping open.  With a gentle sway, Dean straightens up and pivots to face his fiancé.  Dean brushes his fingertips over his nipples, sending goosebumps down his flesh with a wicked dark moan. 

“Dean.” Cas’s tone shudders with desire, so pornographic it makes every inch of Dean tingle. 

The next moment Cas rushes to stand near Dean; the only thing between them is that damn green line, an annoying beacon screaming about their lack of touch.

“You know, Cas, I bet you could make me cum from your voice alone.” Dean bites into his lower lip.  “Wanna try?  Doesn’t break any of the rules.”

Clearly the mental image is enough to help Castiel’s erection harden in his sleep pants. Cas adjusts his cock while his eyes ghost over Dean’s naked body, glaring at Dean’s hardon.  Cas nods, dropping his own clothing to the floor.  The stunning view makes the game so much more fun.

“Tomorrow evening I will take your hand in mine, we will walk down the aisle together as one.” Cas’s voice is better than the finest whiskey Dean’s ever tasted.  He loosely cups his cock, giving it a few strokes and groaning when Cas continues.  “But tomorrow night those gorgeous fingers will be slathered in lube working my ass open for you.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean chokes out. They’ve not done it that way before, and the mere thought has Dean gulping for air.

Castiel’s eyebrow pops up in a purely erotic expression. “Exactly, Dean. I want that cock on your glorious body, my husband’s dick to do just that, fuck me senseless until I’m nothing but a blubbering mess.  Would you like that, my love?”

Dean’s knees give out from want, his body plummeting to the floor. Kneeling before Castiel, Dean glances up through thick lashes, panting his answer, “Yes, Cas, I need your touch, your love, I want you forever.”

“You have me, Dean,” Castiel whispers, his hand palming his own cock. “I want to cum on you.”

There is nothing but adoration in Castiel’s gaze as he looks down at Dean. He nods, agreeing to whatever the hell Cas wants because the sexual tension is sizzling over his skin.  Cas strokes his cock in time with Dean’s ministrations.  The air in the room is palpable as the noise of their heavy breathing mixes together.

Moving with total focus on Dean, Cas steps up to the mark on the floor, his toes tempting the border. Dean scoots forward on his knees so the only thing between them is the three inches of tape.  A shiver rips through both their bodies. 

“What are you doing down there, Dean?” The question is more of a command than a request, and Dean loves it.

The words slip from Dean’s lips without hesitation, “Worshiping you, kneeling at the altar devoted to pleasing the Angel of Thursday.”

“Dean!” Cas shouts as he climaxes, covering Dean’s chin, neck and chest with his seed. 

The sound of his name called out in the sexiest voice alive throws Dean into his own orgasm. Dean collapses to the black linoleum.  Rolling onto his back, Dean glances up at the love of his life glaring down at him, their eyes locking together as they attempt to catch their runaway breaths.  Eventually, Cas calms enough to lie down next to Dean, mindful of the separation.  Cas twists his head so the two men are now face to face a mere three inches apart, but for Dean it could be miles; he wants a kiss so bad it may actually physically hurt.

The long day begins to wear on Dean’s resolve. His eyelids are drooping with exhaustion, yet he battles it because sleeping seems like defeat. He really should clean up, put a fresh pair of underwear on. God only knows who will wake them in the morning.

Cas’s eyes reflect his sleepy demeanor. “We need to get up.”

“Yep, just one more minute,” Dean softly replies, his voice rough.

Dean pleasures in the view of Cas’s chest rising and falling in an elegant dance of life. Lucky, that’s the word Dean would use to describe this new life he is embarking on with his angel.  So beautifully lucky.

“Dean, my love, we can’t sleep on the floor.” There is no energy behind the words, more a gentle suggestion. 

“Okay.” Dean can’t touch his fiancé, but in this moment he doesn’t need to.  The scent of coconut trickles into his nostrils as his fingers slide down his stomach to the floor, breaking the duct tape barrier.  “Just one touch, Cas.”

Blinking slowly, Castiel moves his own hand to mirror Dean’s, their fingertips almost meeting in the middle. As one pointer finger laces with another, Dean’s entire body relaxes. This is all he craves.  A connection to his angel. The two fall asleep content and smiling.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you all,
> 
> XOXO - Angie


	34. Look how far we’ve come

* * *

 

 

Dean snuggles his nose into a nice pocket of comforting heat, the warmth surrounding him leaves Dean settled.  His brain struggles to comprehend the small voice in the back screaming how he should be cold.  Fuck being cold. The pliant mattress below him rises and falls like a rocking chair, soothing Dean to his soul.  With a tiny smirk, Dean slips back into unconscious bliss, totally ignoring any voice that doesn’t agree with how amazing he feels.  The scent of coconut and honey slithers around him; God that’s his favorite smell in the world.

Sleep now, worry later.

The door bursts open as Ruby 2.0 strides in yelling, “I thought you guys were gonna wait until tonight.  Way to make your wedding night special.”

“Too loud,” Dean mumbles into the silky flooring.

Wait!  Dean squints, glimpsing what is most definitely the neck of his angel.  At first he can’t figure out why lying spread eagle naked over a very naked Castiel can be anything other than spectacular.  Suddenly yesterday’s promise flutters through his tired brain, reminding him that this is exactly what they were trying to avoid.  The only rule was no touching.

The tip of a shoe pokes Dean’s ass, Ruby the 2nd standing over them. “Guys, you have to get up and start the happiest day of your life.”  Another poke to his butt cheek.  “Wedding at 8 p.m., remember?”

Dean’s privy to the sound of Cas’s extraordinary voice. “Go away.  Don’t touch my ass.”

“I will never get over hearing your voice Castiel,” Ruby sighs, crossing her arms, “but I’m not even touching you.”

Gentle lips kiss the top of Dean’s head as Cas grumbles, “My ass,” grabbing Dean’s bottom.

“Whatever, it's after 8, and I’m not making a plate if you miss breakfast,” Ruby huffs.

Dean raises his head, turning to face the nurse. “Yes, you will, and can you bring it in here?  I don’t want to move.”

Ruby opens her mouth to give a sassy retort then shrugs.  They both know she’s thrilled about the wedding and plans to spoil them both senseless.  Why deny it now?

“Fine!” she cries, storming out of the room.

Catching Cas’s smile, Dean winks, “I think we broke the no-touching rule, but it was in our sleep so maybe it doesn’t count?”

His fiancé nods, placing a wet kiss to Dean’s lips.  Grunting harshly, Dean climbs off of Castiel, the flakes of dried cum drifting to the black linoleum.  First, he needs a shower then food.

An hour later Dean’s clean and dressed; black running shorts and a Pink Floyd t-shirt.  The plan is to be comfy and relaxed until it’s time to don the wedding scrubs.  Dean’s sitting at his laptop typing out the final draft of his vows while smacking on bacon from breakfast.  Cas left the room to bathe and check on his list for the big event.

Suddenly an email notification comes up on his computer. Sam sent a reminder that Gabriel has to sign the marriage license after the ceremony to make it all official.  Glancing over at Cas’s desk, Dean spots the folder holding the all-important document.  Might as well hand it over to Gabe before things get crazy later.

Snagging the folder, Dean strolls out into the hallway.  Frank waves, exclaiming, “Good luck tonight.”  Then returns to licking Benny’s door. 

“Thanks, watch out for rusty nails,” Dean replies cheerfully.

Frank nods, “Always do.”

Gabriel’s door is shut, but Dean doesn’t think twice before barging in because it’s 10:30 a.m., who would be in a compromising position this late in the morning.  Well, apparently Gabe.  Dean goes still as his eyes take in the shock of Cas’s older brother standing by his window in nothing but black lace panties.  Gabe’s _Angel of the Lord_ tattoo shining loud and proud over the soft material.  They're really high-quality boy short silky lace lingerie, which two seconds later has Dean screaming, “Jesus!”

“Nooo, Gabriel.”  The other man wiggles his eyebrows over his back to Dean, giggling, “Come on, Dean, like you’ve never indulged in the satin sensation.”

He steps farther into Gabe’s room slightly mesmerized by the sight.  “Of course I haven’t.”  Then Dean can’t help asking, “Why is it nice?”

“Superb, and my boxers kept scrunching up under my scrubs for tonight.  The lacy ones stay light and airy letting the sausage and eggs breathe,” Gabriel responds, turning to face Dean.  Unfortunately this gives Dean a horrifying view of the aforementioned sausage and eggs.

 Dean covers his eyes with his hands, shouting, “Sign the marriage license and give it to Sam after the wedding.”

Tossing the papers to Gabe, Dean twirls to flee when he runs smack into the corner of the door with a loud oof!  His hand protects his nose and eyes, so Dean’s poor forehead takes the brunt of the hit.  Dean lies on the floor shrieking like a banshee in heat when he hears someone enter the room.

“Oooh, Gabriel you broke Dean. Castiel’s going to be so pissed,” Inias teases, looking down on him.  “And put some pants on, nobody wants to see that.”

The sound of fabric moving behind him helps to ease Dean’s worries, but the likelihood of a major bruise on his head is high.  Inias dashes from the room, returning with an ice pack for Dean’s injury and Ruby 2.0 right behind him.

“I leave you for five minutes.”  She kneels over him, inspecting the damage.  “The cold will keep the swelling down; however, there will be one hell of a bruise.  For the love God how did you accomplish this?”

Dean throws his thumb back towards the now fully dressed Gabriel. “Him in lacy panties.”

“That’ll do it.”  Ruby agrees, rising to her feet.  “Do you want me to track down some makeup to cover it for the wedding photos, or would you prefer a permanent memory of that moment?”

“Fuck my life,” Dean huffs, because neither of those options seems appealing.

The culprit in black lace tilts over Dean, entering his vision. “Nope, but in a few hours you will have Cassie to fuck for life.”

With that Dean explodes in a fit of laughter, none of this really matters except for that one thing.  He gets Cas now and forever.

****

The hospital's back yard has been completely transformed into a twinkling garden dream.  Flowers of all sorts and colors hang from any available spot; the smell is incredible.  Dean inhales, grinning that the scent of flowers will always remind him of this special day.  Tiny white Christmas lights hang along colorful maypoles flanking the path towards the main area.

He trails after Ruby 2.0 as she guides him to his own personal tent.  Hannah went all out for this event. Dean’s afraid to ask how much she spent, but this may be the only wedding she throws so the saying "Go Big or Go Home" definitely applies.  There is a massive white open air party tent covering a large part of the field they use to play flag football; on either side are smaller square tents with white privacy walls, one for Dean and one for Castiel.  Dean hasn’t seen his fiancé since lunch.  The Rubys have taken on the roles of bridesmaids, each taking a groom to wait upon.  She leads him to the farthest sealed tent, opening a corner to admit them to his makeshift dressing room.

“Holy shit,” Dean declares at the swanky digs Hannah put together.  There is a ceiling to floor mirror in one corner, next to a long table draped in white linens.  All of Dean’s favorite foods are piled high: bacon cheeseburgers, three types of pie, Pringles chips, and an array of juice and sodas in silver ice buckets.  An actual gold couch fills the opposite corner with an old fashioned wooden wardrobe closet.  Dean would bet his left nut that his scrubs for tonight hang inside.  There is an actual chandelier hanging in the center of the space.  A circular sofa-looking thing sits dead center. Ruby plops down, draping herself across the fluffy gold fabric.

“Letting Hannah plan the whole thing was the best decision you guys made.”  She kicks off her shoes and socks, running her toes through the grass.

Dean nods, wandering over to the food table and snatching a burger and orange soda.  “I think the brothers still helped, but God bless them, they didn’t fuck anything up.” he spits out with a bit of burger.

“It’s 6:50 p.m., so we’ve got just over an hour to kill.  Wanna play cards?”  Ruby asks, pointing to the pile of games next to the wardrobe.  “I think I see Battleship.”

Thirty minutes later Dean’s moments away from sinking Ruby’s battleship when Sam meanders into the tent.  His best man looks clean and freshly shaven in a basic light-blue pair of scrubs.  At least Sam went with the theme even if his choice was more basic than creative.

“I just saw Castiel; he’s sipping tea and playing gin rummy with his brothers," Sam announces as he takes a seat on the sofa.  Ruby and Dean sit facing the circular couch, using it as a desk for their battleship game.  “I’m supposed to remind you that Ruby goes down first with the other Ruby at 8:01 p.m. sharp, then Hannah and I a minute later and then you will meet Castiel at the beginning of the aisle a minute after that.  Miss Missouri runs a tight ship.”

Ruby and Dean laugh, because Missouri is probably the most laid-back of the staff but she is bound and determined to take her role as wedding coordinator seriously.  The only reason she has the job is because Hannah wound up as Castiel’s Best Matron.  Matron of honor just seemed inappropriate.

Sam sighs, rolling his overgrown moose shoulders. “I thought you wanted to have the wedding over in the gardens?”

“Cas heard that idea and went ballistic, worried his precious flowers would get trampled when the dancing starts,” Dean shares, closing the board game.  “I’m done playing, Ruby.”

“Okay boys, I’m going in that corner to don my bridesmaid dress, don’t look.”  Ruby walks by Sam whispering, “Well you can take a quick peek handsome.”

“Ruby, behave!”  Dean shouts as Sam’s cheeks go pink.  “Wait, Cas told you both to wear scrubs; we have a theme going on here, don’t ruin it.”

The nurse pulls out a patchwork dress made completely out of several different colors of scrubs material.  It’s a sleeveless A-line number, a pattern that Dean might have glimpsed in a wedding magazine.  “Missouri helped us.  See, you guys aren’t the only ones with crafting skills.”

Dean rolls his eyes, scoffing, “You handed Missouri the material, and she made them for you.”

“Whatever, it was still our idea.”  She waves her hand furiously, “turn around so I can get changed.”

Keeping his back to Ruby, Dean heads to the snack table.  The reception will only be cake and dancing, so Dean’s determined to eat a slice of every pie provided.  Sam joins him, picking up a bottle of apple juice then squints at Dean’s forehead.

“Are you wearing makeup?”  Sam steps in for a closer look.  “Dude, really?”

“I walked into a door this morning, and the damn thing left a monster of a bruise.  This is better than a purple forehead in all the wedding photos.”  Dean bites aggressively into a slice of blueberry pie.

His brother shrugs, tossing a chip in his mouth.  “Could be worse?”

“How in God’s name could this be worse?”  He points furiously at his head.

“Not sure, but it’s something people say,” Sam replies nonchalantly.

A few minutes later its Dean’s turn to put on his wedding scrubs.  Cas has no idea that Dean will be wearing black scrubs with a neck-tie drawn on with silver glitter glue.  Nobody has to know that Missouri helped.  Sam places the yellow primrose boutonniere with a red rose on the pocket of his shirt.

The sound of an instrumental strings version of _Hey Jude_ starts, marking the beginning of the service.  Ruby gives him a thumbs up as she grabs her bouquet of white roses with yellow primrose flowers peeking through.  Sam’s dead serious as he actually times one minute before he follows the nurse out the door on the tent.

Dean’s too anxious to wait, fearful he will be late, and leaving Cas standing alone even for a second would break them both.  The instant he steps out and glances over, there is the love of his life with the same idea.  A familiar smile graces Castiel’s lips.  His fiancé, for like thirty more minutes, has yellow scrubs on but there is something small littered over his top, and as the two men stride towards each other Dean recognizes the decorations as hundreds of little bumble bees the size of a penny.  He busts out laughing when he notices that they are literally in bumble bee colors.

God, as Dean takes Cas’s hand into his, he’s more certain than ever that this moment was always going to happen.  There is no Dean without Castiel; this man will always be his guardian angel.

They pause, waiting for Sam and Hannah to reach the front, giving Dean time to whisper, “Last chance to back out.”

“Never,” Cas responds with a glint in his eye.

Now or never, Dean thinks as he slips his arm around Cas’s and they begin their last stroll as single men.  Dean’s shocked at the number of people who came to his wedding in the looney bin.  He’s guessing at least 50 people, maybe more; no wonder they had to move it outside.  All their hall mates invited guests, and its nice to see his friends sitting with loved ones.  Kevin next to his Mom, Benny next to his wife, Andrea, Garth and his wife, Bess, all the tiny white folding chairs are filled with people who love and care for him and Cas along those who love them.  Well, shit, this may actually be one big lovefest.

Jess sits on the front row in her gorgeous round beauty wearing pink scrubs with little cherub angels on the top.  Next to her is an empty chair with a bouquet of white lilies.  The flowers represent all the people who couldn’t be there because death forbid it; Dean’s Mom and Hael being the two that come to mind first.

Gabriel is standing on a square, raised platform waiting for Dean and Cas to join him.  Hannah and Sam are on the far corners with a Ruby flanking them.  Once they are on the wooden plank, Cas hands his bouquet of Bluebells over to Hannah and then takes Dean’s hands.  This is it, the moment of truth.

“We are gathered here today to witness Dean and Castiel’s commitment to each other through the institution of matrimony.”  Gabriel winks at Dean.  The guy is trying for serious, but the purple scrubs with rainbow unicorns is killing the attempt.  “Do you gentlemen have the rings?”

Dean swings back, grasping the newly re-sized ring from Sam.  His brother felt it appropriate that Cas have it for his wedding band.

“Castiel and Dean have written their own vows to mark their promise to each other.”  Gabriel smirks like a kid in the candy store.  He’s so proud of making it this far without fucking anything up.  “Dean, you’re up, buddy.”

Clearing his throat so those in the back can hear, he begins, “Cas, I will always describe the first time we met as the moment you found me.  The Dean who stands before you didn’t exist until you shot me with that famous blue gaze.  I was lost, drowning in despair like a tortured soul trapped in hell.  Your beautiful heart gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.  You found me, saw what others could not and never gave up no matter how hard the battle until I could stand on my own two feet.”

Tears are welling in the corners of Cas’s eyes.  God, Dean can hardly breathe with the sight of someone loving him this much.  “I love you.  You are not only my angel, my hero, but the man I pledge my life to now and forever.  To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, sickness and in health, in times of lost then found, living together or apart, committed or free, to love and to cherish from this day forward _._ ”  He slides the ring onto Castiel’s left ring finger.  “If I die first I will wait for you in heaven, and if heaven hates me and takes you first I will count the days until we meet again, Castiel my love, my husband.”

Dean pauses, wiping his own tears away.  Cas turns, taking a simple platinum band from Hannah.  A few days ago Dean was extremely clear that if Cas didn’t have it in him to speak that he just has to place the ring on Dean’s finger, whispering “I do” into his ear.

“With this ring,” Castiel’s voice trembles, making Dean’s heart ache, but his angel doesn’t stop, “I thee wed.  Everything I have is yours Dean; my heart, my mind, my body, my soul and all my earthly possessions.  You are the love of my life.  The man who stormed into my room and threw open the window, shining happiness and love into every dark corner.  No matter the burdens, ills, or trials of life I devote myself to you, Dean Winchester.  I take you as my husband and not even death himself will be able to separate us.  Dean, you gave me hope, love, and joy but above all, you gave me my voice.  You set me free from my past and discovered what others had stolen.”

Cas’s fingers slip Dean’s band into the proper place as Cas tilts closer, whispering, “I do.  I love you.”

There is a loud sniffle from the man in purple as he raises his arms, touching their interlaced hands.  “By the power bestowed to me from the state of Minnesota, I now pronounce you two adorable knuckleheads hitched.  Kiss your husband, boys!”  Gabriel howls.

Well at least Gabe made it to the end before letting his glorious personality shine.  Dean shrugs, gliding his arms around Cas’s neck, tugging him in tight for a loving kiss.  Fingers card through Dean’s hair, scratching at his scalp.  His husband is giving just as good as he’s getting as the kiss turns slightly naughty and needy.  Eventually they part to a thunderous applause from their guests.

Gabriel raises his hands once more, calming the crowd, “I am honored to introduce for the first time Dean and Castiel Winchester.”

The words hit Dean square in the chest, yet it's not pain, anxiety or worry. No, this hit is one of unbridled adoration and love for the one person he is thrilled to call his.  Cas Winchester is now and will forever be his husband.

The smile on Dean’s face is so bright he thinks it might rival the stars peeking out as night falls around them.  When he turns to glance at his gorgeous groom, he finds that Cas’s own smile is truly the sun and Dean’s heart warms in the rays.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments and love are always welcomed.
> 
> XOXO - Angie


	35. Fucking Balloons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding Reception Songs- Earth Angel by Death Cab for Cutie, Be Still by The Fray, Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande (don’t judge), and All You Need is Love by The Beatles
> 
> Also please read the end notes for an important announcement.

* * *

 

 

“Let’s dance, motherfuckers!”  Gabriel shouts, startling both Dean and Cas.  “If all those in chairs could break them down and stack to the left of the tent.  My awesome DJ bro Samandriel will kick out the jams with the help of his lovely assistant Jo.”

Cheering erupts as the guests hastily follow Gabe’s directions.  The dance floor’s already in place under their feet.  The room flips from ceremony to party mode.  Caterers move the wedding platform, replacing it with several tables of food and drinks.  The final one holds their wedding cake: three tiers of rainbow fondant with gold edible glitter splashed across the entire delectable dessert.  The cakes inside will be a surprise to Dean. He left the decision to Cas, and he has no doubts that his husband won’t disappoint with delicious flavors.  Dean doubles over in laughter when a sculpture of his and Cas’s faces made completely out of watermelon dons the food table as a centerpiece.

Cas’s eyes grow huge at the sight. “I did not order that.”

“Pretty sure I can guess who did,” Dean says, kissing his stunning husband.

Holy shit that will take a lifetime to get old.  Dean has no clue why people run from the commitment of marriage, because in this moment being able to say "my husband" is truly better than any drug from his past.  Gabriel skims the food table, pointing to the double-grooms watermelon with a massive proud grin, yep he is so the guilty party.

Missouri bustles around the room, checking with people before returning to stand in front of Dean and Castiel.  “Your first dance as a married couple will be up to start, then some group special choices.  I know Anna requested a solo dance with you, Castiel.”

“Wait, Anna is here?”  Dean scans the crowd, “Where is she?”

“The red head in pink scrubs holding Gadreel’s hand,” Cas answers, pointing to the group gossiping in the back of the tent.

Wow, Anna’s beautiful, and Dean would bet she’s got the same piercing blue eyes as a large majority of the brotherhood clan.  If he let curiosity get the best of him, Dean would ask to see a picture of Michael because there is a part of him that would not be surprised to see the same blue in those cold eyes.  Dean’s thoughts are interrupted as Cas drags him to the center of the white dance floor, their guests gathered around the edges watching with rapt attention.

Dean has a flash of nerves that withers the instance his eyes meet Castiel’s.  This dance is for Cas, it's important to his husband; the guy has been worrying over the proper song to choose since they first got engaged.  A lot of this was for Dean, but this moment, this song, is for his husband

Placing his left hand behind Cas’s back and the other grasping Cas’s free hand, Dean swoops his groom across the dance floor but shocks his husband as his bursts out singing as they dance.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, will you be mine?  My darling dear, love you all the time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.”

The break in the song is just enough time for Cas to move his hand from Dean’s shoulder placing it over his mouth as his new husband sings back to Dean.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, the one I adore.  Love you forever, and ever more.  I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.”

The two men continue their swaying over the white floor, their eyes locked on one another as Cas tilts forward, whispering into Dean’s ear,  “I’m your angel, Dean, but don’t for one moment think that you’re not mine.  Don’t ever forget that.”

Not saying a word, Dean shakes his head slowly, Cas’s hand still holding his mouth shut.  With a snicker, Dean slips his tongue out, licking his husband's palm until he hits the cool feel of metal.  There is a thrill at touching Cas’s wedding band as he moans unintentionally. 

Cas giggles, removing his hand. “Down boy, we have plenty of time to do that later.  Let’s keep the dancing PG for the family.”

Dean’s certain his mouth will hurt tomorrow from smiling so brightly.  Jesus, he never knew life could be this light and happy.  Is this what other people get to feel all the time?  Thank God Cas came into his life, turning it upside down and giving him more joy than he’s ever known. 

When the final chorus starts, Cas and Dean break into a spontaneous duet.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, please be mine?  My darling dear, love you all the time.  I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.”

The song fades out as Dean brushes his lips over Castiel’s, breathing into his mouth, “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean.”  The guttural growl from his husband curls Dean’s toes with lust.

They are about to go in for another kiss when Cas turns to face the person tapping at his shoulder.  Anna’s face is emotionless, her thoughts lost to the voices in her mind.  Yet she still softly requests, “My turn, please.”

“Of course.”  Dean grins, releasing Cas to his sister.

"Be Still" by The Fray plays next as Castiel leads Anna across the dance floor.  Dean has nowhere to be, so he keeps an eye on them.  Cas whispers in her ear, but again there is no reaction; at times her gaze darts to Cas but then skitters away like a frightened child.  Dean wonders if this is what the Brotherhood stole from the beautiful woman, the ability to express anything but fear. 

A snarky voice with a British accent cuts into the music, “Dean boy, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

To his left stands a shorter man. His face reminds Dean of a bulldog, and unlike all the other guests he went with a black suit.

“And you are?”  Dean’s not nervous because they are literally standing in a locked hospital. Someone decided this guy could enter.

Suit guy raises his hand to shake Dean’s with a mild grimace, “Dr. Crowley MacLeod.  I’m—“

“Hannah’s husband, the psychologist that works here.” This was not the person Dean had imagined.  Hannah’s a striking woman and honestly completely out of this man’s league.

“Yes, aren’t you pretty and smart.  Do you have a minute to step out and chat?”  Crowley tosses his head to the side.

Dean shrugs, not really sure what needs to be discussed this minute, but hell, Crowley technically paid for his wedding so it’s not like Dean’s going to say no.  “Sure, lead on.”

The two step out towards the gardens, far enough so no one can hear them but still in sight of the party.  A breeze picks up, blowing the fresh scent of flowers over them.  Dean’s spidey senses go off, but MacLeod is an actual doctor here at the hospital; it would be like stepping away with Shurley.

“Have you heard where your father is doing his time?”  Crowley asks, cutting to the chase so fast Dean’s head spins.

“Um, don’t know, don’t care.  I’ve got a block on anything Dad, so nobody can bring him up.”  He shrugs, trying to hide any kind of reaction.  Dean doesn’t know the guy well enough to talk about such personal crap.

MacLeod scratches his beard, pondering something before saying, “Minnesota Correctional Facility at Oak Park Heights.”

“Well shit, how did a 12-month stint for assault and battery get dear old Dad in a maximum security prison?”  The two are not adding up correctly as Dean scrunches his nose, trying to figure it out then a conversation from a lifetime ago flashes in his head.  “Wait!  Isn’t Michael in the same place?”

The other man grins like the cat that’s caught the canary, “Yes, it’s also the location where I did the research for my dissertation and a follow-up study that was published in several scholarly journals.”

Dean looks up confused, “Dude, you don’t need to toot your own horn; I get that you’re smarter than me.”

“All I’m saying is that there will be vigilant eyes on your father at all times.”  Crowley shrugs, glancing over at the raging party.

Hannah twirls around the dance floor with Gabriel; the spinning alone makes Dean’s stomach queasy.  Yet, when Dean looks back at MacLeod, there is a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.  Dean’s positive it’s the same expression he has when he glances at Cas.  Whatever weird relationship those two have, it’s full of love.

“Well thanks, I guess. Do you keep an eye on Michael, too?”  Dean hisses the man’s name because he’s truly the definition of evil.

The psychologist nods his head, turning to face Dean. “He’s a wicked son of a bitch, picked Minnesota specifically because of its stance on the death penalty.”

Not really mind blowing that a guy planning to set up a commune to torture and kill children would pick a state that abolished the death penalty in 1911.  Dean wishes there was a way to change that. He’d give anything to watch Michael’s execution. 

“Any chance of parole?”  Dean’s finally getting some questions answered.  The brothers are barely hanging on, so Dean’s never pushed for intel.

“Michael Milton was sentenced to life without parole, but not to worry. If there is even a hint of that altering I will be the first to know, and I’m assuming you will be my next call.”

A grin plays against his lips. This is now Dean’s family, and MacLeod is giving him the option to be on the guard to protect the children of the brotherhood who never stood a chance.  There is no other choice, “Yes, and then we will make some plans.”

“Ah, a man after my own heart.  You are good stuff, Winchester.”  Crowley pats his shoulder as the two men stroll back to the tent.

Dean pauses to watch his husband dance and laugh with his brother Inias.  His eyes scan the crowd, hitting one of the funniest things he’s seen in his lifetime.  Marv and Frank tangoing to _Dangerous Woman,_ and they are actually pretty suited to each other.  Well shit, Dean’s not going to poo poo anybody’s happiness.

His favorite nurse snags Dean’s hand as Missouri waves at Castiel on the dance floor to get his attention before she leads them over to the towering wedding cake as their guests make a horseshoe around them.  Before anything else happens Dean needs to feel those lips on his and does just that, kissing his husband hard until they can’t breathe.  Catcalls and whistles bounce across the air when they split.

Missouri hands them a plastic knife to slice through the rainbow gold glitter mountain of deliciousness.  Cas takes a handful of cake, moving faster than Dean, to slam the piece into his mouth.  Dean chokes wildly as he smiles towards the love of his life, the faint taste of blueberry on his tongue.

“What flavor is this, Cas?”  Dean loves it.

His husband kisses him, pushing more cake into his mouth, mumbling, “blueberry pie.”

“Castiel Winchester, you are perfect,” Dean exclaims through a mouthful of cake; he spits several crumbs on the man himself, which has Dean laughing so hard he’s seeing stars.

The evening finishes with a group rendition of "All You Need is Love" by The Beatles.  Dean’s surrounded by family, some by blood, most by circumstance and luck, but all people that he loves with all his heart.  The Beatles really knew their shit.

****

“What the fuck is this?”  Dean hollers as he opens the door to their room and a black balloon escapes, hitting him on the nose.  A white one following quickly bounces into his shoulder.

He pushes hard and hears a slew of pops from the other side of the door, when he flips on the light switch there are black and white balloons squashed into their room leaving no space for Dean or his husband to enter.

Cas is leaning over his shoulder peering in; with a worried tone he replies, “I’m not sure how to fit in there?”

“That’s what Dean-o said the first night you lovebirds met,” Gabriel calls out, laughing at his own asinine joke.  “We didn’t have a car to decorate for the honeymoon, so I took the liberty of encouraging our hall mates to send you off with some balloons.”

“Some balloons?”  Dean quips. “I literally can’t see anything but balloons.”

Missouri strolls by, sighing. “Lights out in ten minutes, boys; you better get working.”

“Well we can stand here and complain or we can try to find at least one of the beds,” Cas suggests, wandering inside to shove balloons out the door as best he can.

Dean’s eyes go wide, “And the lube?  Where the hell did we leave the good stuff?”  There may have been a slight panic in his voice since tonight Cas is playing catcher for the first time.  He refuses to cause his husband any discomfort.  “I’m not doing it with Vaseline.”

Several balloons pop as they hit Dean square in the chest, Castiel rolling his eyes, “It will be fine either way, but I was hoping to use the strawberry flavored.  Isn’t it in the bathroom?”

“Have you found the bathroom?”  Dean shouts as he continues to shove balloons. Are these bastards multiplying?

He can’t even see where Cas went just that the sea of round rubber swallows his husband whole.  That would in any other situation be hilarious, but tonight is not the night.  Popping and grunts come in the direction of the bathroom, which is hopeful, but then Dean hears it …  the sound of their door closing and locking for the night.  Damn it!  They barely had time to get maybe a third of the fucking floating annoyances out of the room.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead Dean asks, “Found anything yet?”

“Ouch,” Cas responds, which does not bode well for the lube hunt.  “I think my shin found the toilet?”

Punching the air victoriously, Dean calls back, “Okay there, Columbus, any lube?”

While he listens to Cas whine and curse his way to the sink and the cabinet holding the happy stuff, Dean pops any balloon he can touch.  There is a mass grave of rubber slithers in black and white scattering the black linoleum when Cas shouts, “Eureka!”

“My hero!  Now get back here while I clear out a bed.”  Dean focuses completely on bursting balloons towards the closest bed.  However, there are still balloons everywhere and he can’t figure out what’s happening until he hears the low hiss of air coming from the Castiel’s wardrobe. 

Dean storms in that direction growling with rage, he is going to rip someone a new asshole for this, when he reaches the closet he drops to hands and knees whispering, “Hello, Samandriel.”

The other man’s expression is pure horror as he takes in the deadly glare of Dean Winchester.  “Dude, I pulled the short straw, but everyone is behind it.  Don’t kill me, we’re family!  There is a helium tank in here; we could all die.”

“You have one minute to get out of my room or, family be damned, I’m gonna hit you,” Dean deadpans.

Samandriel shoves his way to the door banging until Talley lets him out with his deep voice full of laughter.  “I told y’all that was a stupid idea.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Samandriel deadpans.

Taking the chance at the open door Dean pummels as many balloons out the opening as possible.  Jake takes pity on the newlyweds and holds it open so Missouri can sneak in, dragging the tank out with her.  This time Dean gets enough out to actually spot his bed before it closes with a click.  He then jumps up and down, bursting anything in his path until a deep, gruff sex voice growls from behind him, “Are you done?”

Dean has a witty comment prepped and raring to go as he twists back to face his husband.  The words dying on his tongue, because Cas is naked, holding the lube, with a come-hither look that could stop traffic.

“Yes?” he squeaks.

“Good.  Now you have too many clothes on, rectify that please.”  Cas commands, and wow, that strong tone has little Dean rising to attention on an epic level.  His blue-eyed groom’s voice drops even lower on, “How do you want me?”

Stripping his clothes with a slow hand gives Dean the time to really ponder that question.  What position would be best for Cas?  His brain zooming through all the many ways Cas has fucked him over the past few months, and Dean can’t find one that wasn’t amazing.  Okay, nut up and choose, Winchester.  Dean tosses his black boxer-briefs into the sea of balloons, opting to just leap.

“On your back, I want to see you.”  Dean tracks his lover’s movements as Castiel obeys without further comment, placing the bottle of gooey goodness on the floor next to him.

Climbing onto the end of the bed, Dean crawls up Castiel’s body, dropping open kisses to the delicious skin below: an ankle, a knee, the inner thigh. Giggling erupts when Dean devours the belly button.  He runs his tongue along the tight cut muscle running out to Cas’s hip till he hits the new tattoo.  The artwork is still healing, so there’s no touching tonight, but definitely there will be in a week or so when the scabs disappear.   Working upward a moan escapes those lick-able lips when nipples are given proper attention.  Finally after what seems like forever Dean leans in for an open mouth kiss full of tongue.  God, Cas tastes like the blueberry pie flavored wedding cake, sending Dean into ecstasy.  Their lips rubbing, sliding and grinding mirroring their hips as a wealth of open flesh glides together.

Okay, Dean’s got to make this great for Cas, which means his next step is proper prep.  Letting his mouth continue to devour Cas’s, Dean reaches down for the bottle, carefully drizzling the liquid over his fingers.  Dragging his cock over Castiel’s helps to distract his husband as Dean inserts the first finger simultaneously. 

“DEEEEAAAANNNN!”  Cas shouts, his voice sultry.

A breath later, Castiel pushes down on his finger, groaning from need, telling Dean he is ready for more and Dean’s happy to comply, adding a second. There is absolutely no rushing this; Dean will take his time until Cas’s hole is utterly prepped. He will never harm his husband. Yet the sounds purring from his lover’s mouth are exquisite.  Dean uses his free hand to play with Cas’s nipples; gently, roughly and everything in between. Their lips never break for longer than a gasp of air before diving back into heaven.

Making love to his husband is everything.  Dean’s astray in love.  Today has been an onslaught of affection striking him hard, for which Dean is eternally grateful.  He’s never had this much love in his life, and now his body is so full it bleeds out in every touch he gives Castiel.  When’s he’s four fingers in, Dean has no doubt Cas is ready, but the pleasure of it all almost makes Dean cum on the spot.

“Dean, I’m ready.” Cas’s voice is wrecked and wanting.  “Fuck me, let me feel you inside me.”

“Shit, Cas!”  Dean huffs, his breath catching in his throat.

He snatches the bottle to dribble some on his dick, the scent of strawberries hitting his nostrils.  Dean will never forget that smell for the rest of his days.  Lining himself up he inhales, holding it in as he moves at a snail’s pace pushing his cock inside his husband.  Cas’s ass is like a vise grip on Dean’s dick.  He’s dancing on the line of pleasure and pain, but holy mother of God the sounds coming from Cas’s mouth are downright sinful, encouraging him to soldier on.  At long Jesus Fucking Christ last, Dean’s hips stutter to the end of that long channel. Dean’s completely inside of his husband, and the scale just flew over to the pleasure side of things.

Dean calls out in relief, a teardrop hitting his cheek, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.”

Every inch of his member is engulfed in Castiel, Dean glances down, memorizing the glorious sight before he pulls his hips back thrusting back in with a quick moan.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Cas screams louder and louder with every smack to his prostate. 

Not for a second is Dean going to forget Cas’s needs as his hand slides down to his husband's cock, latching on and stroking to the rhythm of his own hips.  The two men climax together, their lips locked in a passionate kiss of desire.

As Dean collapses on top of Cas, taking a moment to catch his breath, he remembers his first night in this room.  Hearing Cas scream.  For months that was the only time he was gifted with the sound of his roommate’s voice.  In seven short months that has done a complete 180 because now Cas screams for lust, for love, and above all for the pleasure of having Dean touch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> GISHWHES 2016 is fast approaching and this year I have decided to not torture myself with the added stress of writing and posting during the hunt. I love you all very much but it nearly killed me last year. I will only be missing two postings this Sunday and Thursday returning to my regular schedule on Sunday August 7th. Please forgive me for the interruption in your reading pleasure.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	36. Here comes the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to your regularly scheduled programming. ; )

* * *

 

“Two weeks,” Dean mumbles, staring out the window.  Damn he was going to miss this view of the gardens.  The skies are grey and threatening, but not a drop of rain has fallen.  Dr. Shurley’s office has become a place of safety and refuge, giving Dean the strength to attack his demons head on.  However, as his eyes zero in on a patch of yellow primroses he realizes just how little time he has left, murmuring once more, “Two fucking weeks.”

“Most of my patients are counting down the days thrilled to be back in the real world.” Shurley states as he comes to stand next to Dean.  “I can see how things might be different for you now.”

“Everything has changed, and it’s beyond my relationship with Cas.” Dean pauses, waiting for a huff of disbelief from his psychiatrist that never comes. “I’ve never been on my own.  The second I was old enough to drop out of high school I went from living with Bobby and Sam to bounty hunting with my Dad.  What if I can’t do it?”

He hears more than sees Shurley scratching at his faint beard. “Well, I have a thought that might be beneficial to you.  Would you like to hear it?”

Dean turns to face the man, crossing his arms and uncertain where this conversation is leading. “Not promising anything, but I’ll listen.”

“I can accept those terms. What are your thoughts on Inias being released the same day as you?  I spoke with Hannah, and she can make the housing situation work rather easily.”  The doctor quiets, letting the idea permeate Dean’s mind.

There is a comfort in thinking that someone he knows and trusts will be a part of his new life on the outside. Dean’s not surprised Shurley suggested Inias; he’s been ready to leave for a while but never had a place to go to, not really anyway.  Living in Hannah’s house letting her smother you senseless seems counterproductive for a grown man.  Yet it bears asking.

“Can I ask what Inias’s issues are? Is this something I can handle, just the two of us?”  Dean knows they are tiptoeing around confidentiality laws, but this is important.  He’s got a few ideas but nothing solid.

Dr. Shurley strolls over to his desk to sit down, gesturing for Dean to sit on the couch. Typically Dean prefers to pace and stand during a session, but this isn’t about him.  “Yesterday Inias and I spoke in detail about this option, and he gave me full written permission to openly discuss any concerns or health questions you might have.”  The doctor flips open a file, placing his reading glasses on the tip of his nose.  “Inias has bouts of depression that have reacted well to medication; his biggest hurdle has been suicidal tendencies through starvation.”

“Like anorexia?” Dean queries, leaning back into the couch.  He’s aware that although uncommon, men do suffer from the affliction. 

“Yes, an extreme case that sent him down to St. Gabriel’s several times during the first few years of his stay here. However, with medication and twice a week counseling sessions along with an enrollment in a group therapy program, I believe he can be monitored on an outpatient basis.  For the first year you will have a nutritionist visit your home twice a month to help keep his eating habits on track.  His progress over the past year has been extraordinary.  If you are willing to help support him, this would be a healthy next step that could also benefit you.”

“I would have someone to take care of,” Dean answers, mulling over the proposal.

Even as he glances out the window again, Dean knows he’s going to say yes. This wouldn’t be Cas but a friend that he could lean on and return the favor.  Inias needs this chance, and giving it to him allows the tightness in Dean’s chest to ease just a smidge.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he answers, prepping for the change in plans.

Thirty minutes later Dean’s meandering into the hall, taking the time to really soak in everything that he’s going to miss. The Rubys are in their fishbowl chatting and writing up charts for their patients.  Cole is bickering with Kevin by his door over the young man’s need to clean his room.  The staff usually gives them a wide berth about the state of the patient’s rooms, but Kevin’s has started to stink.  Gabriel and Gadreel are in Benny’s room playing cards. 

Turning into his own room, Dean leans against the door jamb, grinning at the domestic scene before him. Cas stretches out over their bed reading a novel.  One hand holding the book as his other playfully twists in his dark hair.  He may need a haircut, but Dean can’t bring himself to suggest it.  The raven waves just add to his husband’s gorgeous face.  Castiel wears an old pair of Dean’s jeans and the black tank revealing a fuck ton of skin.

“Stop staring, my love,” Cas muses, his eyes still on the page.

Dean chuckles, curling up next to the sexiest man alive. “I can’t, you're just so damn mesmerizing.”

Castiel marks his place with a silver glitter bookmark, laying the book next to him so he can turn to finally face Dean, their arms loosely embracing one another. “The feeling is mutual.”

The kiss is unhurried and passive, there is no need to speed to an ending. Dean may only have two more weeks on the floor, but he definitely has the rest of the day to explore the wonderland of his husband’s mouth. 

An ear-piercing squeal breaks the two men apart as quick footfalls lead right towards their room.

“Dean!” Ruby 1.0 screams, her hands waving chaotically.  “Dean!  Sam’s on the phone; she had the baby.”

“Shit!” Dean replies as Cas dumps him on the floor in a flutter of excitement to get to the phone.

They both follow the blonde nurse as they head back to the phone near the nurse’s station. Ruby 2.0 squeals again handing Dean the phone.

“Sammy?” Dean exclaims.

He can hear Sam’s heavy breathing from excitement. “Dean, she’s here!  Hael Mary Winchester, and God she’s beautiful.”

“Of course she is! Can you send me a picture?” he requests as Castiel urges him on with a nodding head and intoxicating smile.

“Yeah, I’ll email you a few. Dean, you’re an uncle.”  Then his brother’s voice cracks with comprehension, “Oh my God, Dean, I’m a father.”

Dean can hear soft cries in the background and doesn’t want to take too much of the new dad’s time, “No worries, Sammy, you totally got this! Give Jess and Hael a hug and send pictures asap!”

“Got it, Dean! Love you,” Sam says.

“Proud of you, man,” Dean replies as he hands the phone back to Ruby 2.0.

A tear looms at the edge of his eye, so Dean wipes before it can fall. “Hael Mary Winchester has arrived!”

Gabriel strolls up with a smirk. “The Catholic prayer or the desperate football pass?”

“My niece, you numb nut,” Dean counters, smacking Gabe on the shoulder for good measure.

“Shut up, Gabriel, don’t ruin the moment,” Cas admonishes, placing a big juicy kiss to Dean’s lips.

Even despite the poor choice in names, Dean’s thrilled that Hael is here and she’s perfect.

****

There is something inherently dangerous about joy, bliss and euphoria. Time seems to fly by, days zipping past and nobody notices because they were good and full of love, just like the next one until reality sneaks up and knocks the shit out of you.  Dean glares at the evil suitcase, half packed and spread out over the middle of their room while he ponders the evil ways of happiness.

“A storm is brewing,” Cas mumbles from his desk.

A glance over his shoulder, and Dean has to agree. “In more ways than one.”

Dean grabs a stack of clothes, tossing them in the suitcase. He doesn’t miss how Cas tracks his every movement, his body tense and a grimace on his face.  Tomorrow morning he and Inias will be released into the wild in an attempt to survive without the safety found within these institutional walls.  It’s funny how his opinion of the place has drastically altered over the course of 8 months.

“Don’t forget the signs I made you,” Castiel grumbles, his face back on the journal. They have decided to continue the process after Dean leaves, passing it back and forth with each time they are together.  His husband is penning a message for Dean to read once he’s alone tomorrow night with nothing but the ring on his finger to keep him company.

Obliging Castiel’s command, Dean begins taking down the signs proclaiming Cas’s love for Dean. The _Daddy_ sign is already packed in with his underwear, no way in hell Dean’s not taking it with him.  “Do you want me to leave anything?”

“Can I have the photos of Hael and the framed one of us dancing from our wedding?” Cas answers but refuses to look at Dean.

It’s fine. Dean has several saved to his laptop, and he can get some reprints done to hang in his new place. The picture of Cas shoving wedding cake into his mouth is a favorite that will be the first to frame.

The final thing he needs to take down is the goal chart Cas made for his birthday. Once it's down the wall will be bare save the ones Cas wants to keep.  There isn’t a reason to pull the gift off tonight when tomorrow it will take 5 seconds to grab, so Dean zips up the luggage, pushing it under his bed so he can kneel at Castiel’s side.

“Do you want to make out?”  The endeavor to avoid the insanely massive elephant in the room dies flatly.

Nonetheless, Cas does swivel slightly to face Dean, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair. “What if you go tomorrow and decide to never come back?”

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, Cas, that will never happen in like a trillion years. I’m not some roommate that will saunter out to never look back. I’m your God damn husband.  You are a Winchester, Castiel, and family is everything.” Dean searches Cas’s face. “Do you honestly have that little faith in me?”

“No,” the response croaks softly from Castiel’s throat. “This is terrifying.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I will call you every night.  We will end each conversation with ‘I love you’ and never saying goodbye because for us that’s just not an option.  Please, Cas, don’t be scared.”

Green eyes meet blue as tears streak down his husband’s cheek. Swooping up, Dean places his lips over Cas’s, kissing the other man with everything he has, expressing all the emotions swirling under his skin for this beautiful man that he gets to call his husband.  When they eventually part, Dean snickers, “We still haven’t finished the bottle of strawberry lube.  Wanna try?”

The ache and sorrow in Cas’s gaze rips Dean’s heart to shreds. He can’t sugar coat the reality of what is happening tomorrow.  Dean will walk out of this hospital, leaving his husband behind.  They’ve been able to make all these wonderful memories in the past month, but that one action may break them both.

A faint grin pulls on Cas’s lips. “Go get the lube. I feel the need to fuck my husband.”

“Hell yeah you do.” Dean drops a kiss to Castiel’s forehead, then dash to the bathroom to retrieve the important liquid. 

Ten seconds, maybe 15, is how long Dean is gone but when he returns his world crashes before him. He releases the bottle not even registering the mess when it explodes on the floor.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Dean can’t stop repeating that tiny word, chanting the mantra to the heavens because someone clearly hates him.

Castiel Winchester perches motionless on his chair, his stunning blue eyes lifeless and vacant. The dam cracks, allowing sobs to breach Dean’s surface.  This cannot fucking be happening.  Cas left him first.  He would pray, scream, and beg God himself to change his luck, but Dean learned a long time ago that the Almighty has no interest in listening to his pleas.

****

Lightning brightens the dark space, drawing attention to the two completely packed bags lying in front of the window.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up,” Dean repeats until the deafening crack of thunder hushes him.

He tightens his arms that wrap around his husband’s thighs, Dean’s head resting in Castiel’s lap. Not even a sigh from the motionless man sitting on the bed; Cas’s gaze is frozen with no emotion.

Another strike of lightning flashes the bags into view, re-starting Dean’s pleas, “Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up,” till the earsplitting thunder quiets his begging.

The door to their room on the 4th floor creaks open as Garth enters with a sympathetic smile, turning on the overhead lights and causing Dean to flinch from the abrupt change.  Dean rubs his cheek against the white scrubs material, wiping away a stray tear.  The counselor sits next to the couple, his back against the bed frame.  Close enough to talk but far enough away so Dean doesn’t feel crowded, as his worst nightmare plays out in real life.

“Dean, it’s 9 a.m. I can give you a few more minutes, but then you have to leave.”  Garth’s tone is gentle, but he wrings his hands together with worry.

A tremble builds over Dean’s body as he croaks out, “I can’t. One more day, Garth.  He’ll wake up. I know it.  Cas will be horrified and distressed to come back and I’m just gone.”

“True. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, Dean. Castiel will be upset that he was in this state when you left but he will get over it.  That’s not a reason to stay.”  Garth’s fingers twitch, clearly with the need to help with a tender touch, but Dean can’t handle it and his counselor understands.  “Everybody is in the commons waiting to say their goodbyes.  If you want we can get Cas’s wheelchair so he can go with us up to the elevator.”

Only two words leave Dean’s cracked lips, bleeding from being chewed so roughly over the last 24 hours. “I can’t.”   

He isn’t a fool; Dean knew this was a possibility, the stress of his release date pushing his husband into his safe place. For a while he was even fine with it, assured in his own mind that Castiel would awake before time ran out, but alas the clock is striking midnight, destroying the spell of hope within Dean.

Lifting his head, Dean stares into those beautiful vacant eyes. “Wake up, Cas, please, baby, I don’t want to leave like this.” He tilts forward, whispering into Castiel’s ear, “I need you, Cas, please, I know it’s hard but it will be a week until I can come back.”

Not a single thing changes except Dean’s heart plummets to his stomach; the pain unsurmountable. The schedule was set days ago: a phone call every night at 8 p.m., two visits to the commons a week and one two-hour day pass on Wednesdays after lunch.  However, Dr. Shurley felt it would be best for all involved if Dean stayed away for seven days first and got his balance outside the hospital before returning.  Dean can still call, of course, but no visits for a week.  He’s regretting ever agreeing to such a terrible plan.

Garth pats Dean’s shoulder softly, “Dean, we need to leave, do you want Castiel’s wheelchair?”

“No, I’ll say bye here. Can you give me a minute?” Tears are spilling from his eyes, Dean’s voice straining to speak.

“Two minutes, and then you have to go. I’ll grab your bags.”  Garth rises, grabbing Dean’s luggage and rolling it out. 

Dean watches Garth exit before turning back to his husband. “I can’t believe I came here with one duffel but now need two suitcases to get everything out.  Thank God Hannah thought ahead, or I’d have to leave some shit behind.”

Cas sits, his face still void of anything that makes this vessel his husband, and yet Dean knows for a fact Castiel Winchester is in there somewhere hiding from the pain. Dean can’t blame him. 

“I’ll call tonight. Gabriel has promised to hold the phone up to your ear so you can listen to my voice.”  Dean’s legs buckle slightly as he stands even his body has no desire to move.

Perhaps if Dean did something to himself right this second the staff would lock him in the quiet room and he wouldn’t have to leave. For a second Dean glares at his hands trying to picture what he can do when a thunderous clap startles him out of his dark thoughts.  He has to go.  No matter how difficult this will be, it's something that must be done.  In a few days they will break ground on the main house, and Dean must be there.

“Cas, I love you,” Dean stutters, his palms cupping his husband's chin. His hands are shaking so hard that Cas’s face quakes from his touch.  “I came here a rambling lost fool trapped in my own mind.  You set me free, my love.”

Dean places a tender, lengthy kiss to Castiel’s frozen lips.

It’s not enough. Dean desperately craves anything from the man before him, but he’s tired of being ignored.

“Don’t lose faith.” With a final kiss to Castiel’s forehead, cheek and lips, Dean drags his body slow and clumpy from the room that brought him the best days of his entire life. 

He doesn’t stop until he hits the commons. Dean’s eyes are flooding with tears; he can’t tell who he’s hugging so he just whispers “goodbye” over and over as he's being passed from one person to the next.  It’s not until he is right next to the final door before the elevator that Gabriel has him in a tight embrace and won’t let go.

Gabriel’s crying, his words broken, “You are important, Dean Winchester. Take care of yourself and be safe, do you hear me?”

“Yes.” Dean’s eyes meet Gabe’s, locking forcefully.  “Keep Cas safe.”

“Always, my brother, always,” Gabe answers, serious to the bone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions and concerns are always a blessing.
> 
> XOXO-   
> Angie


	37. Loss without losing

* * *

 

“Dean, he’s a 15 minute drive away.” Sam’s voice seems to float over his head because Dean’s not really paying attention.  His mind had been drifting since he left the hospital this morning.

Hannah and Sam greeted Inias and Dean on the elevator from the 4th floor.  The little crew of 4 spent the day reintegrating Dean and Inias into society.  The paperwork for their release took up two hours, with poor Becky staring amorously at Sam like he could be her favorite lollipop while Dean snickered.

Sam spent most of the sign-out Facetiming with Jess and Hael. For obvious reasons they were at home in St. Paul, which meant this was Sam’s first time away from his infant daughter.  Dean repeatedly told him to go home, but his brother refused to leave, stating that Jess was fine alone for 12 hours.  Then it was off to the Apple store for new iPhones and iPads for both Inias and Dean.  The elder Winchester was baffled as to why he would need it until he saw the nice, big picture of Hael.  Yup, Facetime just got a lot more interesting, especially after he sweet talked Hannah into buying one for his husband.

After that everything became one big blur of shopping and driving. A black cloud of sadness stirring deep within him, Dean would occasionally resurface from his dark thoughts to acknowledge where they were and answer any questions directed at him.  Inias needed more things than Dean, so it was easier to shut down and not ponder anything Cas.

Sam snaps his fingers in front of Dean’s face. “Earth to Dean. Are you planning to get out of the car and see your new home?”

“Sure,” Dean replies, shrugging with half a shoulder and not admitting that this new place would definitely require a blue-eyed angel before he will ever call it home.

Grabbing a bag from the back of Hannah’s SUV, Dean finally glances up at the three bedroom, two bath double wide trailer that will be his residence until the big house is built. At least being here has a purpose.  Dean will oversee the build and watch over Inias; both things will help give him some focus.  The trailer is a lot bigger than the one he told Hannah to buy. 

 “I could still rent you a nice house in town.  That way you can be closer to me in an emergency.”  She peers at the trailer with mixed emotions.  Hannah was never keen on the idea, but Dean wanted to be on the construction site at all times and this was the best option.

Inias pats his sister’s shoulder. “I lived in a room with Ed and his dead best friend. Anything is a step up from that, trust me.”

Sam pauses next to him, chuckling as he points to a black car parked in front of the new digs. Dean’s confused because he and Inias didn’t want any visitors for a few days while they settled in. “Whose car?”

“Don’t you have a valid driver’s license?” Hannah responds innocently.

“Yeeeesss,” Dean draws out, vaguely nervous by the question.

They all approach the vehicle when Dean does a double take and kicks Sam’s shin. “Did you know about this?”

His brother’s only response is to laugh harder. It’s a brand spanking new, probably 50 miles on her tops, black Chevy Impala.  “Did you buy me an Impala?”

Hannah huffs, placing her hands on her hips, “Castiel specifically said a black Chevy Impala was your dream car. How did I get this wrong?”

“Nah, its just right.” His heart aches a little because Cas is always taking care of him even from miles away.

“Well good, cause the specialized tags were a pain in my behind.” Hannah waves for Dean to look.

Stepping behind the vehicle, Dean smirks because the sentiment is adorable. The license plate reads: BABY#2.  Hannah tosses him the keys to the car and the trailer as they head over to the front door.

“Thank you, Hannah.” Dean squeezes her arm.  Having a vehicle will be extremely helpful in getting him and Inias around town and to their therapy sessions at the outpatient clinic.  “This was more than I was expecting.”

“Do you honestly think I would leave you out here in the middle of nowhere with no way to reach civilization?” Hannah queries, opening  the door and letting them inside.  Dean’s not even a little shocked that she has her own set of keys, that woman keeps tabs on everyone.

Inias chortles at her, “Hannie, there is a 7-11 half a mile down the road with like three fast food restaurants. I think we would have survived out here in the wild.”  He looks around the living space, “Dude, do we have a Dish?”

“Dean, needs his Dr. Sexy,” Hannah shoots back with a blank face. “And I got all the movie channels but nothing naughty.”

This leaves Inias raising his eyebrows. “Have you seen Game of Thrones?”

“I’m not oblivious,” she answers, turning towards the little kitchen in the corner. “I stocked the fridge with your favorites, and you’ll probably be good for at least a few days.  There are two envelopes on the counter with your names on them.  There is a couple hundred cash in each along with a debit card to your accounts and a Visa for incidentals.  All the bills come directly to me, so the only thing you guys have to worry about is food and gas for the car.  Feel free to redecorate if you don’t like the décor.  I took a guess.”

His brother is twitching at the door, catching Dean’s eye. “I’m sure the toilet works, Sammy, if you need to go that bad?”

“No, it’s just if I leave now I might make it home in time for Hael’s evening bottle?” The guilt in the new dad’s eyes crushes Dean. 

With zero hesitation Dean steps over, giving Sam a big hug. “Thanks for being here today, Sammy, it meant a lot but go …be with your family.”

There is sadness along with the guilt as his brother replies, “You were my family first, Dean. I don’t want to abandon you on such a monumental day.”

“Go, I’ll take a nap, have a late dinner and call Cas.” Dean leans back, squeezing Sam’s arms and plasters the best fake smile he can muster on his face.  “Facetime with me on my new iPad tomorrow with Hael.  It will give me something to look forward to.”

“We can eat lunch together," Sam suggests as his feet inch towards the door, trying to hurry along his exit. “Bye, Hannah, Inias.”

Then the big goofy guy is out the door with a final twitch of his hand. Dean should have known when Sam said they left his car at their new house this was the ultimate goal.  Get the unstable older brother safely moved in then run for the hills.  He can’t really blame the guy, feeling sure it's torture to be away from his daughter all day when he’s still got two more weeks of paternity leave.

“I’m going to take a nap,” he announces, turning to face Hannah and Inias. “Are the rooms the same?”

“No,” Hannah answers, disturbed by his assumption. “Two bedrooms have two twins, so we are ready when someone else gets released from the hospital.  The last one has a king for the married couple.”

She winks, getting her point across. Dean gets to check-out Cas once a week for a couple hours.  He has no doubt that several of those visits will be on the new bed.  However, the image hurts a bit because he will have to wait until Cas wakes up.  He wanders down the tiny hallway to the bedroom with the HUGE bed.  The damn mattress takes up over half the room, but hey, he’s okay with that.

The space is peacefully done in differing shades of green, the walls pale in contrast to the dark forest green of the quilt on the massive bed. A stark difference from the hospital.  Dean’s not sure he can sleep in here alone.  Then his eyes meet the painting above the bed - Dean stands in the center, his intense emerald eyes searing into the viewer; he’s wearing a short sleeve slate grey t-shirt that shows off several of his tattoos.  Thick black eyeliner paints his eyes, which is weird because Dean hasn’t worn it in months. He hasn’t needed the mask lately, which means the artist has seen him or at least a picture.  Cas stands directly behind the painted Dean; his husband’s arms are flung over Dean’s shoulder and he’s wearing a black tank top, exposing miles of tattooed beautiful skin. 

Dean steps forward, peering closer at the picture and noting there are no scars. It’s like a spell lifted all the marks from his angel’s body the moment he touched Dean.  In the corner written in white ink is ' _Anna_.'  Wow, the wayward sister is truly an amazing painter.

On a whim Dean kicks off his boots and climbs on the bed to stand facing the painted version of himself and Castiel. A burning need to touch has Dean lifting his fingers dragging them over the 2D Cas.  Anna’s done a spectacular job expressing the indigo jewels in his husband's gaze. 

“I can’t do this without you,” Dean whispers to the picture.

The loneliness takes over; the raw emotion shoving Dean down to the mattress and making him curl in on himself. Immediately the world is too big and the air weighs down on this chest, not allowing his lungs to work.  There is no one to hold his hand or simply sit passively in the bed next to his.  For the first time since he woke up on the floor of the Little Falls holding tank, Dean wants, no, Dean needs a hit of something to take away the pain.  To live in a state of oblivion for awhile.  His hands tremble with the realization of how easy it would be to climb in his new Impala and find a back alley dealer to help take the edge off.

Shifting on the bed so his eyes can glare at the painting, Dean squeezes his fists, letting fingernails bite into his fleshy palms. “One day, what kind of pussy can’t take it one day without his husband to keep him together? What were they thinking letting me out, Cas?  I’m already a failure.”

“No you’re not.” Inias’s voice startles Dean.  He didn’t even hear the door open; his attention completely on the faux Castiel.  “One day at a time, Dean, and you’re not alone, I’m here.”

“Well fuck, Inias, I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” Dean sits up as Inias perches on the far corner of the bed.

The younger man glances up at the artwork hanging in his room. “There are other pieces of Anna’s all over the trailer. I think it was meant to help us feel less alone, but for me it’s doing the opposite.”

“Yeah, I just feel like I’m not ready to do this yet.” Dean scans the rest of the room, his eyes falling on the two windows. The blinds are closed but light slithers in.

“Garth told me that no one is ever truly prepared to leave, part of the first week is just surviving. He said our success is measured in waking up and starting a new day and never giving up,” Inias mumbles, stretching his legs out across the mattress as his feet dangle off the edge.

Dean doesn’t have the strength to hide his misery. “I’m not sure I can wake up to an empty room.”

Inias swings his toes in the air, giving off a carefree attitude even though he’s far from it. “So don’t.  Come sleep in my room.  It’s got two twin beds just like back at the hospital, save this room for when Castiel visits …” Dean’s eyes dance around as Inias speaks. “A special place for the two of you.”

“You don’t think it would be weird? Two grown men sharing a room in a three bedroom house?”  Dean’s leaning towards agreeing to it, but something in his gut stirs with anxiousness. 

Flopping back on the bed with a huff, Inias responds flatly, “Who the hell would know except people that won’t give a damn? Seriously, you don’t think Hannah or Sam wouldn't understand that trying to sleep in a quiet room for the first time would be upsetting to us?”

He can’t argue with that logic. It’s not like they are planning on inviting people over anytime soon, or like ever.  How would they even do that?  Hi, I just got released from the looney bin, want to come over and eat dinner? 

“Alright, just until we get used to the place I’ll crash in your room.”

A huge smile of success is Inias’s only reply.

****

At 7:15 p.m., Dean’s new phone rings. The caller ID is showing Fourth Family, which was the name he gave the number for his old hall.  Answering quickly, he has a trickle of dread creeping over his skin.

“Hello,” Dean croaks out.

Silence, actually Dean can hear breathing and maybe one of the Rubys blabbing away in the background. Hoping the person on the other end didn’t hear him he repeats “Hello?  Dean’s phone.” 

Again nothing but the breathing; however, the more that Dean listens he identifies the owner, “Cas? You awake?  Tap twice for yes and once for no.”

Tap, tap.

Dr. Shurley had warned that Castiel might revert back to his non-speaking persona when Dean left, the emotional overload of being without Dean forcing his husband to regress, but the psychiatrist also felt that it would only be temporary.

“Hey, not feeling the saying words aloud game today?” Dean keeps his tone gentle.

Tap, tap.

“That’s okay, I don’t mind," Dean lies, but he won’t burden Cas with his own issues when being apart is worse on his husband. He vowed to take care of him in sickness and in health, so that’s just what he will do.  At least he’s awake and responsive, small victories are all they will get for a while.  “I miss you.”

Tap, tap.

Dean chuckles softly, “I’m going to assume that means you miss me too?”

Tap, tap.

Suddenly, he recalls the purchases from this morning. “Hey, did Hannah bring you the new iPad?”

Tap, tap.

“Go get it, and I’ll Facetime you. Okay?”

Tap, tap.

Quickly Dean hangs up and waits an entire minute, praying that’s enough time for Cas to get the iPad and sit in their room alone. Dean races to the king size bed, lounging across the mattress and waiting.  Once sixty seconds is up he makes the call.

The screen fills with Dean’s favorite face on the planet. “Cas,” he whispers reverently. 

His husband bounces his head, a stunning smile spreading across his face. Dean can’t help the unruly tears that fall to his cheeks.  God he misses that man with all his heart and soul.  Wiping away the wetness only brings a frown to Castiel.

“It’s okay, this is just harder than I thought it would be, but Inias is helping me cope.” He tries to brighten his expression but blunders it because the scowl on Cas’s face deepens.  The desire for honesty rips through the façade. “We’ve never been separated for this long.  I’ve been having urges to find anything that will help numb it all.  It’s like my nerves are on fire with no release in sight.”  Dean hiccups as the silent tears warp into violent sobs. 

Over the sound of his own crying, Dean hears tapping through the screen of his iPad. He swipes away the mess, looking at Cas.  His husband has adjusted the screen so it’s a perfect shot of their bed.  Damn, he wants to crawl in there with his angel.  Castiel stands in the center of the picture and begins to strip. 

“Holy shit!” Dean exclaims as his eyes triple in size.  “Whatcha doing there, Cas?”

An intensely naughty smirk builds on his lover’s face as Castiel disrobes until there is nothing but tattoos, scars, and the white bandage over his feeding tube left. Dean licks his upper lip, desperately wishing he could participate in person.  Cas waves at the camera, which is Dean’s cue to respond.

“I’m here, wild fucking horses couldn’t move me from this spot,” Dean answers, hastily ripping his own clothes, tossing them to the carpet below. “How do you want to do this?”

Without a howdy or how do you do, Cas starts stroking his cock slowly and seductively. Dean would move the iPad away so Cas can get a nice shot of him doing the same, but this time he needs the visual so much more.  His gorgeous husband sits down so only his ass is perilously balanced on the side of the bed, giving Dean a great view as Cas opens his thighs super wide.

A faint whimper slips from Cas’s throat as he pumps his cock harsher, his eyes glaring through the camera and blazing a path into Dean’s soul. In that moment Dean swears he can sense Cas touching him, being with him, and for the first time that day he is not alone.

The thought shreds Dean’s stamina to tiny pieces as he strips his own cock with such vigor he’s climaxing in minutes, screaming, “Cas!”

When his brain calms down enough, Dean returns his attention to the screen as Cas is dancing towards his own orgasm, with a wink Dean purrs. “Fuck me, Cas, hard and rough so I can feel you for weeks.”

That certainly does the trick as his husband spills his seed over his hand, whispering “Dean” into the empty room. Dean’s heart nearly breaks at how much that one quiet word is everything to him. He tucks the vision away in his mind to be retrieved when things get difficult. Perhaps this was Cas’s plan all along. This idea allows Dean’s pride and love to swell for the amazing man who agreed to be forever with him.

“I love you, Cas,” he mumbles, raising his fingers to ghost over the image on the monitor. “Thanks for this. I needed you.”

The love of Dean’s life crosses the other room, his face filling the screen. Cas tilts over placing his mouth to the camera so for a second there is nothing but soft supple lips encompassing the screen.

“Night,” Dean waves as the two men break the connection with sad attempts at grins.

Jesus, this is going to be the hardest thing Dean’s ever done in his life, but with a man like Castiel Winchester in his corner it’s totally worth it. With the memory of those lips fresh in his mind, Dean falls asleep in the big bad king size bed, never thinking about the void next to him. 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.
> 
> Angie


	38. Watermelon Etiquette and other funeral questions

* * *

 

The light is just starting to peek over the horizon, giving the sky that early morning pinkish color. Dean gives a happy sigh.  He takes another swing of his hammer as the bang cracks into the silence of pre-dawn.  This is why he wakes at 4:30 a.m. to tinker on the house with Rufus; the view from the new house’s roof is breathtaking.  The two men will work alone until the rest of the crew stumbles in at the more reasonable hour of 9 a.m., but damn he loves this time of day almost as much as when he gets to spend time with Cas, but really nothing could surpass that.

A cold breeze whips through Dean’s hair as he balances on a beam for the roof. October has brought a chill to the air. The month is halfway through, so the crew is focused on finishing the exterior of the massive home, trying desperately to beat the first snowfall.  He’ll be glad when this is over because his balls are freezing up here.

“Hey, numb nut!” Rufus calls from the other side of the roof, the one facing the makeshift driveway of gravel.  “Did you invite people over at the ass crack of dawn?”

“What the fuck you talking about, Rufus?” Dean glances at his watch; its 7:10 a.m. and the sun is just starting its ascent.  It should be another two hours until anyone else arrives on the work site.

Curious about the question, Dean carefully hops his way over the beams to Rufus. At two stories with massively high ceilings, this is not a place you want to fall from. Following his co-worker's pointer finger, Dean spots Sam’s car pulling up next to Baby#2.  Dean is always alarmed when his brother shows up unannounced, a throwback to his time before… well before everything changed.  He drops through the rafters, dashing down the ladders to the first floor so he can run outside and find out what the hell is going on.

“Sam!” he screams as three people exit the vehicle. Dean would yell a question but his voice gets caught in his throat; Cas is there with Dr. Shurley.  What is happening?

His husband rushes over to him, embracing him tightly. There are no words; Cas still hasn’t found his voice again, but the touch is comforting.  Dean whispers into his lover’s ear, “Did someone die?”

The slight nod from Castiel sends a splash of fear through Dean’s veins, but his one bright light is that his husband and his brother are here. After a moment he steps back a bit to face Sam and Dr. Shurley but keeps his arm wrapped around Cas’s waist.

“Dean,” Sam sighs gently like he’s dancing around a sensitive subject. “I don’t know how you are going to take this, but I was informed last night about an incident down at Dad’s prison.”

“An incident? What kind of incident?”  Dean’s words are slow as he connects the dots.

With a calm voice Dr. Shurley explains, “Your father was assaulted by another inmate. The guards immediately took him to the infirmary and from there to the local hospital because of massive internal bleeding.”  The psychiatrist grips his shoulder with a sorrowful expression. “I’m sorry, Dean, he did not survive.”

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asks, his hands raised like his older brother might strike out like a wild animal.

The thing is, Dean doesn’t know how to answer that question. Sunrays trail over the gravel under their feet, and he finds himself mesmerized by the graceful movement.  He surprises himself by the total lack of emotions in this moment.  The man who taught him everything he knows about bounty hunting, about being an adult, hell about life in general, is gone, no longer breathing on the same world as him.  Dean tells himself he should feel something, anything, and yet he has no reaction to the news save one.

“I want to see him buried,” Dean speaks flatly. “When is the funeral?  I want to go and watch that bastard be lowered into the ground so I know he’s truly gone.”

Cas gently raises Dean’s chin to face him. The concern and love radiating from those baby blues shouts volumes as to why Dean is settled in John’s death. Castiel would always be in danger with his father alive, especially when his sentence was up.  With a busted career thanks to Dean, John would have come after them because Dean humiliated him professionally and then added insult to injury and gave his husband the Winchester name.  Nope, this is better.  Karma took out his Dad and left Dean guilt-free in the end.

“I’m good, Cas. This is not a tragedy.” Dean leans in, kissing his stunning husband; this man is important.  Sam and his family are important, that evil sack of shit that called himself Dean’s father was never of import.

“Wow, you are taking this much better than I would have ever thought.” Sam’s eyebrows shoot up into his floppy locks.

Dr. Shurley swings his arms with a slightly confused expression upon his face. “I’m not sure I was even needed, but I’m free until my first patient at 9 a.m. Anybody hungry?”

Castiel nods his head while patting his tummy, and hell yeah, Dean is going to feed him. He turns, yelling up at the unfinished roof.  “Hey, Rufus, want some pancakes?”

“Hell yes I do! Little rich shit never feeds me,” the old man grumbles as he climbs down.

Taking Cas’s hand, Dean leads the men to the trailer, thankful Inias has been hankering for pancakes lately so they have all the ingredients at hand. “So, Sam, where are we burying him?”

“I was thinking here in Little Falls. That way you can visit if you want,” his brother replies, falling in line.

“Sounds like a plan.”

****

Four days later Dean tugs at the suit he wore when he testified against his father. Odd that he’s wearing the same thing to the man’s funeral, but it almost seems appropriate. The mirror in his cubicle bathroom makes it hard to see the whole thing, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s a suit and that’s what you wear, right?

There is a commotion coming from the living room area. Dean knew Sam and Jess were coming with Hael, but it sounds like dudes wrestling.  When he steps out of the hallway, there is his entire family: Sam, Jess, Hael, Cas, Gabriel, Gadreel, Inias, Samandriel, Hannah, and Crowley.

Of course Inias and Gabriel are rolling on the floor in their black designer suits. Gabe has a way of making his entrance known to all those around him.

His mouth drops in shock, “What are you all doing here?”

The two brothers freeze as Gadreel responds solemnly, “You are family, Dean. We will always be there for you.”

Dean has to wipe a few tears away, not from the upcoming funeral but from being so overwhelmed by the display of solidarity he’s never had in his life. God, he loves his family, even Crowley and his grumpy cat frown.  Cas steps up, giving him a chaste kiss.  Dean grins, taking in the crumpled dark navy suit and khaki trench coat.  His husband’s go-to fancy outfit.  The other brothers have black trench coats because there has been a bit of misty rain this morning.

Hannah smiles, holding up a large shopping bag, “I have umbrellas for everyone. We should get going; the minister is meeting us at the cemetery.”

Cas and Dean slide into the backseat of Sam’s car. Dean happily takes the middle so he can play with his adorable niece.  She’s growing like a weed and can now play with rattles and hold fingers like a champ.  Hael has an adorable navy blue dress with white ruffles on her butt.  The innocence of her smile helps ease Dean into what lies ahead.

The cemetery is about 45 minutes from the trailer but snug between Hael and Cas, Dean enjoys every minute. His left hand holding Cas’s while his right plays with his niece.  He’s a tiny bit sad when they finally pull up to the graveyard that will be his father’s final resting place.

Sam leads the pack towards a space in the back that’s prepped for the funeral. A premade hole deep and dark from the earth with a green awning over it has two men waiting.  One gentleman has the collar of a pastor and shakes Sam’s hand as they move to stand out of the rain.  It’s not a hard rain yet, just a heavier mist that is giving everything a grey, cloudy feel.  The other guy stands with a shovel clearly waiting to finish the job.

It’s only then that Dean acknowledges the dark wood coffin. There is an urge that bubbles up from deep within Dean, he wants to see the body.  Well shit, now or never, so Dean crosses over, lifting the lid to peer inside.  Yup, that’s John Winchester in an ugly suit, his lips loose and vacant.  “Bye, Dad,” Dean whispers, then closes the coffin with a nod to the minister so he can begin.

Words are spoken, but Dean doesn’t listen. The pomp and circumstance of the funeral mean nothing to him.  He only needs two things from the service.  To physically see his father’s dead body and watch it dropped into the ground for eternity.

He’s standing in between Castiel and Gabriel. His husband is draping his arm over Dean’s shoulders, squeezing occasionally to remind him he’s not alone.  Gabriel is silent for once in his life but pats Dean’s elbow.  After a while Hael gets fussy, so Jess wanders off to sit in the car.  When the ceremony concludes, the minister shakes Sam’s hand again, stating, “Take your time with goodbyes.”

Hannah and Crowley give their regards and head out with Inias and Samandriel following closely behind. Gadreel gives massive hugs then sighs to stand off to the side by himself.  Dean worries that this might be too much for him, but so far Ezekiel hasn’t reared his head. 

“I’m going to check on the girls,” Sam announces, strolling away with his head down. Dean will take more time to talk with Sam another day when everything isn’t so raw.

Dean’s not sure what to do now. His father’s casket has been lowered the six feet down and he knows he’s in there, but still Dean can’t find the strength to step away.  Faint memories of his mother’s funeral slip through his mind like an old nightmare he can nearly grasp.  Dean was so young, but he remembers the green grass and the bright sunshine even though it was November.  Then it hits him like a ton of bricks the anniversary of his mother’s death is only a couple of weeks away.  Unfortunately that’s the spark that pushes him into silent sobs.

Tender, affectionate kisses sprinkle over his cheek and forehead as Dean cries, “My Mom died on November 2nd.  Is it horrible that remembering that date is more upsetting than standing next to my Dad’s open grave?”

“Not at all, Dean-o, people are weird. Mourn how you want; there is no rule book for this shit.”  Gabe’s words are mumbled, but strangely poignant.

Then a crunch, crunch.

He ignores the sound for a bit, letting Cas sooth his nerves with a tight embrace and kisses. They don’t always have time for the little touches these days so Dean’s gobbling up as much as he can, but it's also helpful to keep a hold on reality, the memory of his mother’s death poking at his sanity. 

Another crunch, crunch chased with a loud SLURP.

“Are you eating watermelon at my Dad’s funeral?” Dean’s accusation is snide.

Being a kind person, Gabe responds by holding up the baggie with slices of watermelon inside, “You want to share?”

“Not really, now why do you have a zip-loc full of watermelon?” His mind focuses on the absurdity of it all.

“Hannah gave it to me this morning. She said if I stayed quiet with nary a word during the service I could eat it after, but I had to remind her that I am a sanctioned minister.  Totally could have nailed your Dad’s eulogy.”  Gabe glances around the grave. “Looks like the thing is over so watermelon it is.”

Dean squints at the older brother, “I thought you didn’t like watermelon?”

“Nope you’re thinking of Samandriel and Inias. Me, I love the stuff; it has such fond memories.”  With that Gabriel takes another huge bite, the juice running down his chin.

Sam calls from his car, “Guys! Let’s go get some lunch.”

Dean takes a final look at the coffin in the dark dank hole and grasps Cas’s hand tightly. “I don’t think we’ll be back anytime soon, Dad.”

Cas gives a curt nod in agreement as the three men head towards the vehicles; ultimately Dean breaks and grabs a slice of watermelon to share with his husband. He will now have the strangest memories with this particular fruit.

The group ends up at a diner in town that boasts the best pie in Minnesota. Dean’s very behind the decision to eat there; he also has a feeling Hannah picked it for that specific reason.  It takes some finagling of tables and chairs but eventually they can all sit together with Hael in Dean’s arms.  Her eyes are the spitting image of Sam’s soft hazel, but the tuff of blonde hair on top is all Jess.  Cas dangles a rattle for Hael to bat while Dean gives her kisses. 

He and Cas pass the baby back and forth while they eat, not wanting to share the infant with a soul. Dean’s fairly sure Jess is simply enjoying a chance to eat with both hands. Suddenly a chair is dragged up to Dean’s side as Crowley tips into his ear.  “I talked Shurley into giving Castiel a 24 hour pass.  He’s supposed to stay with Hannah, but I feel like breaking a few rules.  How about you, Dean?”

Holy shit! An entire night with Cas in that California King bed! Dean can’t answer fast enough, “Hell yes, Crowley!!  Any stipulations?”

“I just have to be the one to bring him back at 9 tomorrow. So have Castiel outside the trailer ready to go around 8:30 a.m., does that seem fair?”

For the first time since meeting him, Dean can’t help but throw his free arm around the cranky Scottish man, hugging him so fiercely the guy struggles a bit to breathe.  “I will take that as a yes,” he croaks over gasping for oxygen.

“Yes, thank you, Crowley. Dear God above yes!”  Dean cries, winking at Cas’s cocked eyebrow.  He leans over whispering in his husband’s ear, “Sleep over at the trailer tonight courtesy of your brother-in-law.”

Castiel hops up and yanks MacLeod into his own hug, squealing with delight. For a day that should be full of sorrow and darkness this has suddenly taken a turn for the lewd and erotic because its been forever since he’s had Cas all to himself for such a long period of time.  Castiel’s normal visits are an hour of fast fucking and sweet talking before he has to be back.  Now Dean plans to take his time and worship that man like a freaking God.  However, he first has to pass back his niece; popping a boner with Hael in his lap is all kinds of inappropriate.  The title of Creepy Uncle goes to Gabe, not Dean.  Speaking of Gabriel, he takes the moment to snag said baby, bouncing her around the restaurant listening to her giggles.  That little girl will know nothing but mounds of love.

An hour later Dean vibrates with excitement as he ushers his caring family out the door with a smile and a wave before snatching his lover’s hand and yanking him back to their bedroom. He can still hear Sam laughing as Dean shuts the door and locks it tight.  No disruptions, except for food in several hours but for now its him, Cas, and a bed.

“Naked. We need complete naked for our extended R&R!” Dean exclaims, stripping away his suit with zero fucks about looking graceful or sexy.

Yet, Cas just stands there fully dressed, still wearing that God damn trench coat. Dean stomps towards him, but instead of letting Dean help him get blissfully naked Castiel moves back.  The simple act of scooting away from him makes Dean’s skin grow cold.

“What’s wrong?” Dean whispers, his hands lifted but not allowed to touch.  All at once being naked seems vulnerable, something he’s never experienced with Cas.

Blue eyes stare at Dean with soft concern; the silence between them broken by a gruff unused voice, “Dean, don’t hide.”

Those three words stealing away Dean’s ability to breathe as he grabs his chest. “Just touch me, Cas.”

“No, don’t hide, Dean. Not from me.”  Castiel hasn’t spoken since that last day together on the 4th floor and now the asshole finally finds a reason to speak.

“I’m not hiding!” Screaming so loudly his throat hurts, “For fucking once, Cas, can’t you just help me to forget this crappy day?”  Dean would be embarrassed by the desperation in his voice, but this is the one person he doesn’t hide from and it’s that thought, that notion, that drops Dean to his knees.

Cas is right. Jesus Christ his angel knows him better than himself. This entire day Dean’s been hiding from the truth.  Tears pour from his eyes as Castiel at long last pulls Dean into his arms. 

“My dad died,” he sputters into Cas’s neck as a warm hand trails up and down his bare spine.

“My dad died. My dad died. My dad died.”  Something has broken deep within Dean and he can’t stop repeating that one short insignificant sentence, and yet it means everything.

In the end Cas lifts Dean onto the bed, stripping down to his boxers and holding Dean while he processes the onslaught of emotions.

“John Winchester was a horrible human being. How can I grieve for him?” The proclamation is spoken into the strong chest of his husband.

Castiel cards his fingers through Dean’s hair as he speaks with confidence. “One day I too will get the call that my father is dead.  Michael Milton is a monster.  He did unspeakable things to me and my brothers, and I will feel relief that he is gone.  However, I also know that in that same moment I will mourn the man that gave me life.”

Silence falls between them as Dean places his hand over Cas’s heart. Letting the silent beating fill the ache in his own.

“I thought you didn’t know if Michael was your father or not?” Dean’s curiosity to find answers, always wins over proper timing.

“I didn’t for a long time, but Hester came to our wedding. She placed an envelope in my hand and told me to open it when I needed to know about where I came from.  Last week I was rummaging through my closet when I found it.”  Gentle lips brush over Dean’s ear.  “In it were birth records, my birth records and papers identifying Hester and Michael as my biological parents.”

Huge did not even come close to describing this revelation, but Dean only asks, “Are you okay?”

“Not entirely, but I plan on bringing up this new information in my next session with Dr. Shurley.” The honesty in Cas’s statement gives Dean the strength to do the same.

He rises on his elbows so he can face his husband. “I didn’t want my Dad to die.  You only get one, and he’s gone.  Not to mention I had so many questions about my mom that will never be answered.”

“I understand, my love, I understand.” Dean stops his speech with a kiss, letting himself melt into Castiel’s body.

The two men kiss and touch tenderly, nothing tawdry, just allowing the chance for each of them to heal in the other’s presence. Slowly but surely Dean falls asleep safe in Castiel’s arms.

Dean’s eyes pop open the next morning as the alarm blares into the dark room. He shuts it off and bursts into laughter that he can barely contain.

Cas sits up turning on a lamp, “What’s so funny, Dean?”

“Oh my God, Cas! Gabriel is actually banging your mom!” He hiccups through the next part, “I wonder how Hester feels about watermelon?’

The pillow that smacks his face is totally worth it.

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and questions are always encouraged.
> 
> XOXO-  
> Angie


	39. Finding Home

* * *

 

Dean misses the rumble of the 1967 Impala. The new and definitely far from improved version he currently drives has a quiet engine and economical gas mileage.  What the hell is with that?  Unfortunately after his father’s death Sam was unable to track down where his true baby had been stored during John’s incarceration.  Bela probably knows, but no one has seen her since her final visit to Dean at the psych hospital.  The poor girl probably went into hiding and still doesn’t know the coast is clear for her to rear her pretty, but obnoxious, head.

He turns Baby#2 into the driveway of a modest home just inside the city limits of Little Falls. Dean honks the horn twice to notify Jo that they are waiting on her ass.  Sighing deeply, Dean turns to Inias in the passenger seat, “I can’t believe you are forcing me to waste my Wednesday with Cas to do this crap.”

“Hannah’s visiting Crowley’s mother for Thanksgiving, so it's us or poor Samandriel has to stay another week at Heavenly Hosts,” Inias answers, waving to Jo as she climbs into the backseat.

“Hey guys,” the blonde smiles brightly. “Thanks for letting me join in on the fun today.”

With a curt nod, Dean pulls out of the driveway, heading north towards the hospital. “Who releases a patient the day before Thanksgiving?”

Inias rolls his eyes, glaring at Dean. “Don’t you dare complain in front of him. Crowley scored you a 24-hour pass with Castiel for your troubles.  You will have plenty of time with your hubby.”

“And what about you, princess?” Dean eyes Jo in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “Got any extra-curricular activities planned for Samandriel tonight?”

Jo punches his shoulder hard, nearly causing the car to swerve. “We haven’t even kissed yet, dumbass.”

“Ah so heavy petting and making out it is then,” Dean teases as he waits for another punch.

The trio are in the lobby killing time while Samandriel goes through his exit checklist with Becky. He didn’t even call them to come until it had started, since Dean reminded him how thorough the receptionist is during her one big part with patients.  No one leaves without her stamp of approval, and the woman thrives on that damn red mark.

Once Samandriel has finished and is packing up his pile of shit in the trunk, Becky will call up for Castiel to come down for the start of his 24-hour pass. The last time they were gifted with one of these was John’s funeral and no fun had come of it, but not this time. Dean has plans.  The smirk on his lips and naughty look in his eyes gets another smack from Jo.

“Alright,” Becky yells, emerging with Samandriel from the conference room behind her receptionist desk. “Samandriel is free to go, so I will call up for Castiel Winchester to come down and then you can all clear out of my lobby.”

Dean nods, his grin going wider. Samandriel only has four bags that Jo and Inias can help him with, allowing Dean to wait for his husband.  Cas won't have any bags because Dean keeps a spare of everything in the trailer for him, just in case.

Ten minutes later his favorite smile strolls into view wearing a tight pair of black designer jeans, a baby blue snug t-shirt and that damn kaki trench coat. Dean holds out his arms and lets his embrace be filled by his gorgeous angel, who purrs quietly under his touch.  There are no words of greeting, and Dean’s prepared for that.  Cas still hasn’t fully returned to speaking freely, but he becomes a chatty Kathy behind closed doors with just the two of them.  He’d feel bad about it, but let’s be honest, Dean enjoys keeping many things about his husband to himself.

A quick kiss to the cheek, then Dean queries, “Hey you hungry?”

With a nod and a returned kiss to his lips, Castiel follows Dean out the door, ignoring Becky’s rant about being back in exactly 24 hours. Of course the day is spent reintegrating the newest released brother to society.  However, this time by mid-afternoon Samandriel is begging to be dropped off at Jo’s.

“Dean, I am a free man and can spend the day or night wherever I want,” Samandriel states from the back, where he’s squeezed in between Jo and Inias. Cas is riding shotgun without even needing to call it.

“Fine I’ll drop you off, but how ya gonna get home?” He turns onto the street that shoots past Jo’s corner.  “Not sure an overnight for the first one out is a good idea.”

Inias jumps in agreeing, “Yeah, maybe wait a couple weeks before doing anything too wild.”

The red faces from Samandriel and Jo are priceless as Jo squeaks, “I have a car. When should he be home?”

“Midnight,” Dean and Inias answer simultaneously.

****

Dean bustles around the small kitchen, getting things prepared for the Thanksgiving brunch they are planning for tomorrow. Cas has to be back at 11 a.m., so that kind of set the time frame for their family feast.  It wouldn't be a big deal, but Dean’s determined to have a turkey and, well, that requires getting up at the ass crack of dawn on his day off.

While he works, Inias and Castiel are playing Scrabble. It’s a great game for a guy who prefers silence to shouting insults at his opponent; Gabriel’s go-to gaming method.

“Inias, when are you planning to pick up Gadreel and Gabriel for brunch?” Dean shouts as he works on his apple pie for tomorrow.  “Time will be tight because of Cas needing to be back.”

“Cas says Dr. Shurley gave him till 1 p.m. because of the holiday, so don’t worry about it. We can eat at the more reasonable hour of 11.”

“Awesome, that works.” Dean returns to his prep, happy for the extra time but never getting an actual answer from Inias.

Dean’s on the couch after dinner, Cas curled around him like an octopus. Inias is lounging on the recliner as they watch Home Alone.  He can’t wait for a day when he gets this all the time.  Relaxing with nowhere to be, cuddling with his love.

Halfway through the movie, Cas gets up and heads down the hall. Dean assumes he needs to pee, so he doesn’t think anything about it.  However, fifteen minutes later and still no return of his angel has Dean getting antsy.  He’s bouncing on the sofa like he will rocket off the damn thing any moment.

“Oh my gosh!” Inias screams, “Just go check on him.  You’re ruining the movie.”

“You’re ruining the movie,” he snipes back to a confused Inias. Yeah, not his best comeback for sure.

The door to the main bathroom is open, so Dean takes a quick glance inside. No Cas. If Cas was sleepy and heading to bed he would have told Dean, he knows his husband likes to snuggle up next to him as much as humanly possible.  The door to their bedroom is the only one that’s closed; maybe Cas wanted some privacy.

Halting in front of the closed door, Dean taps a few times yelling into the wood, “Cas, you ok?”

He waits for an answer but then realizes how stupid that is before pushing through and walking in to find a very naked Castiel on the mattress. All the lights are off, but someone has strung twinkly Christmas lights around the room, giving it a soft glow.  Dean closes the door behind him, making sure to lock it tight.  There will be no disturbances.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing something special?” Dean asks timidly as he removes his clothes to match his husband’s state of dress.

Castiel dramatically rolls his eyes as he flashes the glitter _Daddy_ sign.

The noises that come from Dean’s mouth in response are not real words, rather more of a collage of every cuss word he knows pushed together with a choking sound thrown in for extra added embarrassment. He stands motionless at the foot of the bed waiting for instructions.  Dean is so far out of his comfort zone he’s going to need a map to figure this out.

With a sultry wink, Cas rolls over on to his tummy, rising up on all fours. Dean’s brain completely shuts down at the sight.  People say that all the time, but Dean would swear that if he had electrodes hooked up to his head at this exact instance it would be shouting BEEEEEEEEEEEP. 

“Dean, please do something,” Castiel commands, waving that damn sign around for emphasis.

Inhale, hold, exhale. Dean attempts to find enough strength to get this show on the road, but he has no idea what to do first.  He glances over towards the nightstand and chuckles as he spots the Watermelon flavored lube they haven’t used in ages.  Then Cas clearly wants to kill him as he shimmies that perky ass and fucking smacks his own rear with the _Daddy_ sign.

“Holy ass!” Dean blurts out, his face blushing from the stupidity of the comment.

A guttural gruff comes from the man crouching on the mattress, “Dean. My ass is not a holy relic, but it would appreciate some attention,” Cas shakes his rump for good measure. “Now, I have been a very naughty boy.”

Stealing himself with tight fists, Dean shuffles up the bed on his knees until he’s directly behind the butt in question. Okay, so Cas wants a few spanks to get things going.  Every guy’s fantasy is to tantalize their partner with swift smacks to the derrière, right?  Dean reaches out his right hand, smoothing over the glorious skin of Castiel’s ass cheek.  He just needs to pick the right spot.  To help encourage the first smack, Cas flashes the sign again while pushing back into Dean’s palm.

Puffing air out like he’s training for a marathon, Dean swings his hand back and fucking breaks under the pressure, stuttering, “I can’t do it, Cas. I’m so sorry; there is no way in fucking hell I’m going to hit you.”

He’s expecting an annoyed sigh or pouting comeback, but instead Cas’s shoulders quake as laughter fills the uncomfortable silence. Through each burst, Cas replies, “Dean, it’s for fun.”

“Don’t care. Choose any other kind of kink, and I’m there, but seriously, Cas, I can’t do it.  I will literally run through the living room tomorrow dressed only in pink panties if I must.  The thought of putting red marks on your flesh is making mine crawl; not only that but it has killed my hard on.”

“Well that’s just not acceptable,” Cas grumbles as he turns, snatching Dean’s shoulders and tossing him to fall on his back.

There isn’t time to react as Cas licks up Dean’s flagging cock. Nonetheless, that little action has all his wires crossed with his cock perking up.  “Cas!  Jesus Christ!”

“Perfect,” Cas hisses as he leans up, snatching the lube to put next to Dean’s hip.

The man doesn’t waste time as he slips his mouth around Dean’s dick, bouncing up and down with a serious focus. One of Castiel’s hands pumps the base of his erection as the other fondles his balls.  Dean’s eyes roll into the back of his head with the overstimulation of pleasure.  Dean’s entire focus is blown as he melts in to a puddle of lust at the ministrations of his extremely talented husband.  Then the hand stroking his cock vanishes with the swift sound of a cap opening.  A slick finger slithers into his ass, and Dean is 100% sure that he’s not going to last if his husband keeps this up for long.  Dean becomes a writhing mess as Cas gradually works his way up to three fingers, his mouth bobbing wildly and the free hand still playing badminton with his testicles.

“Shit, Cas!! I’m so close, don’t you want...”  Dean never finishes his sentence, the building heat in his belly slams through harshly; he can barely find his breath.  Dean orgasms with such force he literally sees stars as he screams every profanity in the book along with “Kelly Clarkson” for some unnamed reason.  He’s still panting as his vision returns to normal.

His husband is large and in charge with Dean holding on for dear life as Cas bends him in half, thrusting his dick deep into Dean. As Cas’s hips do ungodly things in a figure-eight pattern, Castiel tilts forward, whispering into his ear, “Dean Winchester you are everything to me and I despise the little amount of time I get to spend giving you pleasure.  I want it all, Dean, don’t you?”

“Yes, Cas, Shit, I love you,” Dean purrs as Cas slows his thrusts, their mouths finding each other. A bit later Castiel orgasms, but it's sweet and loving. The two extremes make Dean’s head spin, but that’s the life he leads and man does he love it.

****

The alarm blares to life, waking Dean from a deep sleep. It’s still dark out, and the stupid alarm clock reads 5.30 a.m.  “Fucking turkey,” he whines, turning to kiss Cas before heading to the shower but all he finds are cold empty sheets.

“What the hell?” Dean jumps to turn on the lamp, climbing all over the bed hoping that Cas simply fell out.  The mattress is three times that of the one in the hospital, but Dean’s getting very nervous.  As he glimpses the pillow Cas was using, there is a note taped to it with his name written in Cas’s handwriting.

_Dear Dean,_

_The turkey has been taken care of, so instead you can play a little game with us. Myself, Inias, Samandriel, Gadreel and Gabriel are hiding next door.  Call it Hide and Seek in the Dark.  You can bring a flashlight, but must turn it off once you are inside._

_Good luck my love,_

_Castiel_

_PS – This is a game Gabriel designed, so there will be "extras."_

“I don’t want to even think about what Gabriel would add to Hide and Seek that you play in the dark,” Dean tells the wall as he dresses in jeans, t-shirt, grey Henley and a jacket with boots. It’s fucking cold outside, and there is no heat next door so those idiots better have dressed Cas up warm because if his husband catches a cold there will be hell to pay.

The abrupt change from his warm trailer to the freezing wind that whips through his hair nearly gives Dean a heart attack. This game had better be fun or Dean’s not sharing his pie.  Dean mumbles about the fact that instead of macking on Jo, Samandriel must have checked out Gadreel and Gabriel last night just so they could play this childish game.

His feet crunch under the first dusting of snow that fell earlier in the week. Dean retrieves a pair of gloves from his pocket, cursing the cold weather and muttering, “They couldn’t have waited until August to play this?”

Now that the exterior of the house is complete the doors are typically locked, although this morning the one to the mud room off the kitchen is open. Dean’s quiet as he shuts the door behind him without a sound.  If these guys want to play cat and mouse, then Dean’s taking it to a whole new level.  He used to hunt dangerous criminals for God’s sake; this should be easy.

Pitch black doesn’t even begin to describe how dark the house is this morning. There wasn’t a moon last night, so until the sun rises Dean’s got nothing but instinct to work with. Flashing a grin, he waits, letting his eyes adjust to nothingness.  Regrettably the crew has been working on drywall this week, so there are stacks of it everywhere along with holes in walls where it hasn’t been completed, giving the brothers ample places to hide.

The first place Dean suspects would be an excellent hiding spot is in the lower cabinets of the kitchen. There’s nothing in them, so a grown man could easily crawl inside.  Dean silently moves, opening each cabinet to swing his arm inside because his eyes aren’t seeing jack.  On that final door near where one day the sink will go, Dean’s hand hits some kind of lever, and before he can jump he is assaulted with a face full of glitter.  He would yell to high heaven because that shit gets everywhere, but nope, he’s on a mission now.

While moving methodically through the first floor, Dean shakes his head trying to get as much glitter off himself as possible. He’s even wiping it off his tongue!  Then he hears it, a gentle giggle coming from the coat closet in the foyer.  There isn’t a door yet, just a recessed cubbie, but when Dean swings his arm inside this time he hits pay dirt, snatching a fluffy snow jacket and yanking it towards him.

“Gotcha,” he whispers to the person that is most certainly Gadreel.

The other man replies softly, “That you do. Now I’m off to make coffee in the trailer.”

“What, you aren’t going to hunt with me?” Dean nearly whines.

“I know where all the booby traps are; it wouldn’t be fair.” With that Gadreel heads out through the front door.

“Booby trapsssss,” he grunts, “as in more than one?”

Dean decides that the cold has now moved to his special place, and he needs to pick up the pace. Slipping through the bottom floor quickly, he finds Inias under a broken piece of sheetrock.

“Thank God you found me, its too cold for this shit,” were Inias’s parting words as he practically ran to the warmth of the trailer and fresh coffee courtesy of Gadreel.

Turning back towards the stairs, Dean’s feet get caught in something and he falls flat on his face, but the landing is not what he expected. Currently it's all concrete, but a loud squishing sound rings through the empty space as Dean is now fucking moist and reeks of … “Are you kidding me? Old rotten watermelon all over the floor!”  Dean screams, because this is horribly disgusting.  Well thank God it had been out all night and wasn’t as wet as it could have been, but it still smells terrible.

“Last straw!” Dean calls out as he stomps up the stairs, sneak attack be damned.  He not only stinks with globs of rotten watermelon dropping from him, but every time he turns glitter clouds erupt from his hair.

Gabriel and Samandriel are huddled together for heat, snickering as they shine a flashlight on him. Gabe quips, “Have they crawled entirely inside or still hanging slightly to the left?”

“Still bigger than yours Gabriel!” Dean shouts as he chases them to the stairs, roaring like a lunatic.  Only one person left to find.  Castiel Winchester.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Dean sing-songs as he searches the many bedrooms and closets. There are no doors, but lots of hiding places.  Then he smirks as the perfect plan bubbles to the surface of his thoughts, “Hey, Cas, my lips are feeling awfully lonely.”

A slight shuffling sound comes from a bedroom down the hall. Dean follows it while still speaking, “Cas, please, I want to kiss my husband in our new home.”

Two seconds after entering the last bedroom, Dean’s body is wrapped in a massively huge embrace as Cas grumbles in a low sultry voice, “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas!” Dean sighs as his lips meet the cold mouth of his husband and the two men take turns tossing each other against the fresh drywall, puffs of glitter sparkling over them with each movement.  The kiss is rough, needy and so damn hot Dean can barely keep oxygen in his lungs.

Eventually, Dean pulls back enough to stare in awe at his gorgeous husband. Sunrays are just beginning to lighten the sky, giving Castiel an almost angelic glow.  He knows he’s staring, but Dean can’t help himself as the last piece falls into place.  Why the brothers still play all these childlike games.  Sorrow hitting him hard, Dean whispers into the cold, “No one let you be kids.”

Cas’s face mimics his own sad expression as his husband replies dryly, “Were you ever a child, Dean?”

The sentiment forces tears from both men. A realization swirls around Dean. Placing another chaste kiss to those shiny lips, with a touch of silver glitter, Dean exclaims, “In our new home there will always be laughter and games.”

“I guess I know what we should call the new homestead,” Castiel states as Dean turns his head to the side, curious at the comment.

“What Cas?”

A warm, genuine smile shines brightly from his husband. “Neverland.”

Dean can’t help but giggle. “Certainly explains all the glitter.”

  
 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my amazing readers. We are quickly coming to the end about two chapters left.
> 
> I love you all,
> 
> XOXO - Angie


	40. Speaking of Journals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is the last chapter before the epilogue, my wonderful readers. The journal starts with the day Dean leaves the hospital.)

* * *

 

_Dear Dean,_

 

_As I sit here writing this you are packing to leave. There are so many things I wish to tell you, but none of them convey the correct sentiment. We’ve only been married a short while and haven’t really known each other that much longer. Most couples spend years dating and growing as a unit before taking a spouse, but time has never been on our side.  I love you.  Even as the ache in my bones and especially my heart grows from watching you pack, I do not regret anything. My life has been full of pain. Goodness knows sorrow has followed me all my days, but this ache is different. It’s not an ending, but a chance for us to build a life outside these walls.  We both know this is for the best.  Yet, I can barely watch as you put your most prized possessions into a suitcase to begin a trip somewhere I can’t follow.  Not right now, anyway._

 

_I want to get better. Before I met you that was always the goal, but there was never a drive to accomplish it. To reach the point where Dr. Shurley would think I’m ready to face the ‘real’ world.  Now things are different, very very different.  For the first time since I set foot on the fourth floor, I want to leave.  The safety of this hall no longer holds the same sense of security and peace.  Peace, true happiness, is in your arms, Dean Winchester, my husband, my love._

 

_It is not if I will leave, the words have changed to WHEN I will leave and re-start the life that Michael put on hold for all these years. Dr. Shurley has given me a checklist of sorts to give our sessions and my mind a focus.  I promise you, just like you checked off every box on your goal chart, I too will do the same for my checklist._

 

_I will leave this place. I will live with you.  Never doubt that this has become my sole purpose in life._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_You kind of sound like you're about to take on a massive quest. I don’t mean to laugh, but Gabriel could totally be a real living hobbit.  Shit, you even have a golden ring to guide you! (Okay, I know it's not gold, but go with it.)_

_Thanks for facetiming me last night; it was helpful to let some tension out before bed. ; )_

_The first night in the trailer did not go so well. The nightmares are back; my mother is haunting me, and you are dead on the linoleum in her place.  I woke up screaming, but Inias collected me and brought me back to his room.  Nothing naughty!!  He’s got two twin beds, and the room is set up like on the hall.  It’s kind of comforting to not be alone in the dark._

_I will meet my new psychiatrist today at the out-patient clinic. Her name is Dr. Layla Rourke.  Don’t know anything about her beyond a name, but I’ll let you know how it goes._

_Please just take care of yourself, Cas. Remember I took my vows deathly serious, and I mean it when I say I’m here till the grave and beyond._

_Love you,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I don’t understand why discussing your death is meant to be a romantic gesture. It only encourages me to stay up thinking of ways you can die without me.  Then of course I used my new iPad to look up dangerous aspects of your life.  Being apart from you is frustrating, and I hate it._

_Gabriel says my new foul attitude is from lack of sex. I explained to him if that were true his attitude would be far more distasteful than mine, being that he only fucks Hester a few times a year.  We copulate at least once a week.  He did not find my train of logic entertaining, but Gadreel laughed for over an hour and often still quotes the conversation._

_Please tell me about this Dr. Rourke. Is she pretty?  What does she look like?  Does Inias see her too?_

_There is an ache that nothing can fill but you._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_Seriously? Are you honest to God getting jealous over my psychiatrist?  Who, by the way is a lovely lady with soft feminine features and blonde hair.  Cas, she reminds me of my mom!  Which is slightly unsettling, but Dr. Shurley might have done that on purpose._

_Oh my God, the next time I see Gadreel I’m asking for a play by play. You totally schooled Gabriel at his own game.  I would have paid good money to see that.  Actually, I’d give anything to be back on the floor right now.  The session with Rourke kind of left me a little raw.  Which is normal and healthy, I guess, but it’s harder to right yourself afterwards when there is no one to hold you while you cry._

_Of course I can fill that ache baby. I got your medicine right here._

_That sounded better in my head, sorry._

_Inias had his nutritionist come yesterday. Her name is Maritza, and man she kept talking about fish tacos.  I told her no, there was no way I wanted the trailer stinking of fish every day.  She threw out my pie!!  I may have stomped to our room and shed a tear because PIE!  However, the next day she sent over a homemade cherry pie that didn’t have ‘dangerous chemicals’ in it.  Tasted the same to me, but hell if she sends one of those every week I’ll avoid high fructose corn syrup._

_No, I get it about the hollow ache in your stomach. Makes it hard to eat, breathe, or even sleep.  It doesn’t go away like a shadow that grows when you are alone and shrinks in the high sun of noon, only to return.  We can make this work, Cas._

_There is no other choice._

_I miss holding your hand while watching Dr. Sexy. It’s just not the same with Inias, his hands are smaller than yours. ; )_

_Love you._

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I would hope that watching a romantic show with Inias is NOT the same as with me. There would be several issues to discuss if it were, being that I am your husband and Inias is your brother.  Those feelings should not cross, EVER._

_Why would you have my medicine with you in the trailer? One of the Rubys gives it to me every morning.  Gabriel says I don’t get the joke, but filling the pain in our hearts is no laughing matter, Dean._

_I am glad that Dr. Rourke reminds you of your mother. Perhaps, this connection can help you explore your feelings regarding her death.  You know I am here if you ever need to talk about it.  Just because I do not know my own parentage does not mean you should not have free rein to discuss yours._

_Life can be very difficult, my love. Today I sat and watched bees fly through our primroses, at the time it made me smile to think back when we planted them together.  I sat there the entire outdoor period just listening to the buzzing of their tiny wings, letting the scent of the flowers fill my nostrils with the memory of your beautiful hands tilling the soil._

_I miss you. Memories can be both a blessing and a curse._

_Please allow me to apologize for the mix up with the iPads. It seems Hannah bought one for Gabriel, and he was using it for nefarious purposes so Garth took it away. He then found mine and, well, I am so sorry._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_PS- I have changed my password in hopes this doesn’t happen again._

_\------_

_CAS!_

_Do you understand how damaging that was to my healthy psyche???? I thought it was you texting me dirty pictures of your junk until I looked closer.  I LOOKED CLOSER!!!  Suddenly I wished to blind myself with bleach because I got up close and personal with an image of Gabriel’s cock.  For the rest of my life I will now be able to identify your brother’s penis; that is not something I ever wanted to know or be able to do._

_And Gabe wonders why Garth took away his iPad because the little shit was sexting with Hester. I don’t even want to know what she sent back.  Do you want to know the worst part??  I can’t even drink a touch of alcohol because it fucks with my current meds, so I can’t drown out that clear, perfect image of Gabriel’s erection._

_On a completely unrelated topic, can you ask Gabriel how much the tattoo on his pecker hurt? Just asking for science of course._

_The house is coming along. Rufus’s concrete guy came out and laid the foundation, so it’s starting to look like an actual work site.  The crew is nice and hasn’t given me any grief for my inexperience.  Working with my hands again, building something for us, for our family, is becoming therapeutic for me.  Dr. Rourke says that it’s like watching our future grow right in front of my eyes.  She may have a point._

_Can you believe September is almost over?_

_I miss you every second of everyday Cas. The worst part of all of this is having to send you photos because you can’t be here in person.  How is your checklist coming along?”_

_You are the love of my life, Castiel Winchester,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_You have been gone from the floor for over a month, but there are times when I can still smell you in the morning. I am sure it’s just my imagination, but when I first wake it is like I get this puff of air and it's all Dean.  It makes me smile, but then my new roommate snores and his own new brand of scent reminds me that you are truly gone, not from my life but our room on the 4 th floor._

_I believe that in taking vows to each other that will last for eternity, I now have the right to not only call myself a true Winchester but to veto all stupid-ass ideas that have anything to do with your penis. No I will not ask about the tattoo on my brother’s dick.  For two reasons: 1) I would love to go the rest of my life never having to discuss a family member's (other than yours) genitals, and 2) YOU ARE NOT GETTING A TATTOO on your stunning cock.  Thank you and good night, sir!_

_The checklist is coming along. Dr. Shurley took me out to lunch yesterday.  I was able to eat some soup and drink tea with no issues.  However, I was unable to place my order without help so …it’s a work in progress._

 

_The next time I’m at the trailer we should make time for you to walk the work site with me. I would love to see everything through your eyes._

_I love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_It was just a suggestion; yes I agree you get veto power over all penile additions, but honestly it's pretty cool. Not that I have spent any time looking at it beyond trying to figure out how her sweater grew like that.  Mine would have looked like you by the way, but I have put it to the side._

_Tell me about the new roommate? Is he younger, older, better looking than, say, me?  Not that I’m worried, but you did marry your last roommate.  Just saying._

_Hey, don’t rush, Cas. Baby steps. All I want is for you to be healthy and happy.  One day you will be here with me, but until then don’t make it worse by stressing over things you couldn’t help.  Also, why wasn’t I invited to lunch?  I like lunch.  Did you have pie?_

_Deal. Next Wednesday when I pick you up for the afternoon we will take a walking tour of our future home.  Well the one we will cohabitate until I build our own house where the trailer now stands.  I’ve been learning a lot and meeting people who will be able to help with big stuff like plumbing and electric.  Don’t want to screw those up, or we might end up with shit in the shower drain.  Seriously, Rufus has some scary-ass stories about idiots doing stuff without proper supervision._

_I really do love my extremely possessive husband. My dick is yours alone sweetheart._

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dean,_

_My new roommate is Curtis; he is younger than you, around college age. He had to leave his education after an unfortunate incident with an alien probe, which he describes in detail to anyone who will listen.  You needn’t worry. There is less than zero percent chance I will ever find this frat boy enticing, romantically or sexually.  What I do find him is smelly?  God he never changes his socks, Dean.  Just as you kept losing socks at an alarming rate, he never needs new ones from ALWAYS wearing the same pair.  However, the stench alone is pushing me to work harder on my checklist._

_Although the idea of having my face permanently attached to your member sounds lovely, I am still thinking HELL NO with a side of NEVER WHILE I AM STILL BREATHING will you ever let anyone touch that dick other than me. Unless of course it is a medical emergency and a licensed doctor is trying to save you or the penis._

_Yes, please listen to Rufus the professional. I do not want to ever find myself showering with feces._

_Dean, part of my checklist is doing things required of me by society without the help of my husband. I need to learn how to exist in the ‘real’ world.  So no, you cannot come with me and Dr. Shurley to lunch even if we had delicious pie._

_Love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_My dad is dead._

_You left this morning from staying over after the funeral, and it's like the entirety of that sentence keeps hitting me. I’ll be in the shower shampooing my hair and suddenly I’m struck with one thought.  My dad is dead.  I have tried to call Sam three times.  For some bizarre reasons I can’t bring myself to hit send.  Sam has spent the last year doing nothing but taking care of me, Jess, Hael, and even you.  I am such a failure as a big brother that I can’t even call him up and ask how this is affecting his life, his mind._

_Why can’t the big stuff be easy between Sam and I? The way you are with your brothers is amazing and I wish that I could be like that with Sam, but when things get tough I freeze.  At some point we grew apart and yeah this last year has brought us closer, but sometimes I still feel the void between us and it scares me.  Sam did so much for me. Why can’t I just hit send?_

_I truly believe that there is a socks paradox portal in that hospital room. Seriously I never found like ten pairs of socks; that’s a lot, Cas._

_I am officially not jealous of Curtis. A little nervous that someone who believes they were accosted by aliens is sleeping next to my husband, but definitely not jealous._

_My dad is dead. My mom is dead.  My brother is moving on with his own family, and my husband is locked away.  Sometimes life doesn’t give us lemons it drowns us in a bath of acidic lemon juice._

_It’s easy to smile when you hold my hand, Cas, then you leave me._

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dean,_

_Have you spoken with Dr. Rourke about these issues that have come up over your father’s death? Dean, those last few sentences in your recent entry have me worried._

_Please, Dean, I know it’s the 1 st of November and things seem bleak, but remember the thaw does eventually become spring.  You can do this for me, my love.  _

_Talk to Dr. Rourke. Ask for hugs from Inias.  Call your brother._

_I love you. You are never ever alone._

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_I’m okay. Well, okay might be a bit of a stretch, but I am following your advice because my husband is super smart.  For the next few weeks I am seeing Dr. Rourke three times a week.  Inias has become my ninja hug stalker.  I know you talked to him because several times a day, every day, I receive massive hugs and pats on the shoulder.  Thank you, Cas.  I needed it._

_On November 2nd I was picking up the phone to call Sam and heard a knock on the door. My little brother was standing there waiting for me to finally let him in.  We spent the day talking and even went to have a session with Dr. Rourke together.  She’s no Shurley, but I feel that the time I spend with her is helping, especially with Sam there.  I never understood how the night of Mom's death changed Sam.  He was 2 years old. I always thought he didn’t remember, but he does.  At least little tidbits here and there; it felt useful to fill in the gaps for him, to allow my little brother to openly ask questions that he’s never been permitted to before.  It was still a shit day, but I woke up on the 3rd and kept going, so Shurley would say it was a success._

_Hey, so I got a call that Samandriel is getting out sometime soon. How do you feel about that?_

_You are an amazing spouse, and I love you more every day,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_I am relieved and proud that you were able to vocalize the assistance you needed. Not only did you help yourself, you also gave Sam answers, which is life-altering.  Hester came by today, to visit me and not Gabriel.  She also was able to give me some answers, but also to offer her apologies.  I was her first child at an age when most girls are preparing for college and hanging with friends.  Michael harmed her in ways that I will never understand, and yet I still find myself angry at her betrayal.  She could have left, given me up for adoption, but instead she gave birth in Michael’s home and cried for three days when he took me away to be raised by the Brotherhood, because having knowledge of one's mother might alter the building of Michael’s supreme idea of family._

_He is an evil bastard, and I hate Michael Milton. I curse the day he was born.  Unfortunately I lost my temper and sent Hester into tears at the end of her visit.  Sleeping for an hour in the quiet room was not enough punishment for all the horrid things I said to the woman who gave me life.  Yet, I only find myself being mildly guilty over it.  She was old enough to know better._

_Dr. Shurley has now added forgiving Hester to my checklist; I met this new item with a growl. Yes, I see the value in letting go of my rage, but I’m not sure how to do it.  I want to come home, Dean._

_We were informed of Samadriel’s release date, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I want to be happy for him, but jealousy is a fickle beast, Dean.  It flares up and gives me a short temper with my poor brother, who has done nothing wrong.  I’m tired of being left behind with smelly frat boys who have watched entirely too much X-files._

_No matter my pain or grievances, I will always love you,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to snap and be moody.  You are allowed to mourn the life you should have had.  Let yourself feel the emotions that come and don’t fight them, that is the only way to reach your goals and come home to me._

_Don’t worry about the new assignment from Shurley; you will get there, Cas. I truly and honestly believe that you will be home soon enough.  Not for a visit but here living with me as a married couple._

_Day by day, Cas. That’s the only way to make this happen.  Put your sights on one item of your checklist and then move to another._

_There is no way to change the past, what’s done is done; we can only focus on what is in our power to amend. I am proud of you._

_Thanksgiving is next week and the extra bedroom is waiting for Samandriel. It's true I wish it were you, but I can wait.  There is no rush._

_I love you,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dear Dean,_

_Thanksgiving was the best holiday I’ve ever had. Not only did I spend it with my handsome husband but all my brothers too.  I know we said it in jest, but the new place is truly a twisted version of our own ‘Neverland.'  Maybe you should make a little sign to hang out front?  This new home should be filled with all the things we were never allowed as children: games, fun, silliness and innocence.  Yes, we can’t completely fall under the Lost Boys spell, but where is it written that we have to grow up?_

_Has a finish date for the house been discussed? I feel like I have been floundering lately and need a good kick in the pants to finish my list.  If I had a date to work with as a goal there might be a chance of me being home in time to move with you into the new house.  Then I can be included in the construction of our cabin.  Just an idea._

_I love you, Mr. Winchester,_

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas,_

_Have you ever been to Texas? Or any place with real cattle ranches?  During my many travels as a bounty hunter, I spent some time in Texas, and the ranches there all have names.  Often when you pull into the main drive of the ranch you pull through a gate with the ranch's name emblazoned on top.  I was thinking that we could do something like that and put ‘Retrorsum Neverland.'  Which is Latin for backwards since we are doing this whole thing in reverse.  Okay maybe it's stupid, but let me know what you think?  And ask the brothers too?  Inias helped with the Latin._

_Rufus is thinking the house will be complete by my 31 st birthday.  Pretty awesome present, huh?  You know what would make it even more awesome if I got to move into our new house with my husband!  No pressure though, I know you have put enough on your shoulders so don’t feel like I need anything other than you however you are meant to be._

_I love you,_

_Dean_

_\------_

_Dean,_

_Everyone loves the name ‘Retrorsum Neverland’ and feels it is perfect for our new place. Please, make the entrance sign for it with our blessing._

_Actually I have big news and after you read this I will be waiting for a facetime chat from you because I am sure you will be as excited as me. Gabriel is being released on December 23 rd.  However, he won’t be leaving alone.  I too will be home for Christmas my love._

_I’m coming home._

_Castiel_

_\------_

_Cas!_

_You’re home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, one more.
> 
> XOXO- Angie


	41. Epilogue

* * *

 

**Six years later**

“Henry moves too slow,” Hael exclaims as she dashes down the weathered path.

Dean laughs, calling back to her, “Your little brother is only three, and gravel is tough for even us old folks.”

When they finally poured proper blacktop for the driveway, Cas had adamantly pushed to re-use the gravel as a trail. It was nice but over the years had become rather treacherous if you weren’t careful.  Dean was betting Hael would be nose diving pretty soon, or twisting her ankle. 

Dean squints his eyes, raising them to the skies. The sun is bright but not too harsh for late April. The warmth spreads a smile over his face.  Spring has always been a special time in their home, and having the kids visit for a few days was icing on the cake.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean’s not surprised to find Henry snuggling in Cas’s arms. That little boy has all the brothers wrapped around his finger, but Cas always took a shining to him.  “He’s getting too big to carry, Cas.”

“Not true, Dean, age is irrelevant,” Castiel fires back, kissing the top of their nephew's head. “You give me piggyback rides down to the fields all the time.”

“Whatever,” Dean huffs, falling in next to his husband's stride.

It was almost four years ago when they bought another 4 acres behind their property to give Cas the space he needed for gardens. All the brothers work to care for the vegetables, flowers, and bees that live back here.  A couple florists use their flowers for arrangements, and Inias set up a stall in the weekly farmers market in town.  Lord knows they didn’t need the money, but having a purpose gives their days a focus.

As they break through the heavy brush to the open greenery of the flower gardens. Dean waves at Gabriel and Gadreel. Hael is already riding Gadreel’s shoulders as they wander through the massive explosion of color, the little girl calling out to Gabriel her selection to be plucked.  To the left is the open fields and the right is where Dean built two greenhouses for year-round work.  On the other side of the greenhouses are the vegetables, rows and rows of everything that can grow in Minnesota, except watermelon.  That had been Dean’s one rule.

“Damn, Cas, it’s beautiful!” Dean states, placing a kiss to his husband’s lips.

Henry, deciding that he’s done with Cas, toddles on down to meet Gabriel’s waiting arms.

“The roses need a little more attention before the real heat hits, but the primroses are really in full bloom this week. I need—“Dean stops Cas’s rant before it begins, grabbing his face and kissing him silly.  A few minutes later when they finally break, it’s to Hael tugging at Cas’s pants.

“You stop that smooching!” She pokes them multiple times until the two men comply. “I need help making Mommy a bouquet.”

“It’s not that hard, princess.” Dean boops her nose for good measure. “Put a bunch of flowers together and hand it to her. Easy as pie.”

The young girl shakes her head furiously, “Nuh uh, I know they mean stuff, Uncle Cas has been teaching me. I want to say something about love.”

“Then we need to head towards the primroses,” Cas directs, taking her tiny hand in his.

Dean finds a wooden bench near the edge of the pink roses to sit and watch them. This is his new endeavor, outdoor furniture he makes from re-purposed wood.  It started years ago after he finished the cabin but still wanted to work at home.  Castiel never likes being left without him for long periods of time.  The guy used to sit and read books while Dean built their little house, always within sight but not actually helping, thank God.  Cas is better with living things.

“Sam and Jess staying for dinner?” A feminine voice breaks his train of thought.  Dean turns to look at Ruby the Second.  They hired both Rubys to help out with medical care and be house mothers for the crew. After the first thaw in the "real" world, Dean learned super fast he couldn’t do it without help. 

The Rubys keep them all on their toes, especially Gabriel. It just wouldn’t be home without them.

“Nah, I think they want to get back as soon as possible. Sam has court in St. Paul in the morning,” Dean answers as the nurse plops down next to him with a huff.  “Where is 1.0 hiding?”

“Anna’s having a rough day, so they are in the art studio,” she answers, shrugging. Dean nods, hoping she will be up for hugging the kids goodbye.

His nephew comes tearing down the path at full steam, nearly collapsing on Dean’s knees shouting, “match the flowers, Unca Dee.” Henry has a yellow primrose smashed between his chunky little fingers.

Dean chuckles as he pulls up the grey t-shirt he’s wearing, showing off the intricate tattoo on his stomach. Henry shoves the flower against the matching one on his skin.  They’ve been playing this game for a while now, and Henry still thinks it’s the best.  He does the same with Cas when he sees the rows of red crimson flowers.

“I win!” Henry exclaims, climbing into Dean’s lap, “Henry match.”

“That’s right buddy, you won the matching game.” Dean smiles, rubbing his fluffy brown hair; the kid desperately needs a haircut, but he’s Sam’s son so not sure when that will happen. 

Suddenly something silver flashes in their eyes and Ruby bounces up like a rocket, “Gabriel! You can’t have alcohol, that better not be a flask!”  The nurse yells as she sprints towards him.

There is a 99% chance it’s a flask with apple juice in it. Gabriel isn’t one to screw with his medications, but he will happily fuck with his nurses.  The jovial trickster streaks past them with a howl of pride, Ruby 2.0 right on his heels.

Cas laughs at his brothers’ antics, taking the seat next to him. Dean could stare at his husband all day, especially as the sunlight bounces through his hair, giving it that auburn hue. “I love you,” Dean mutters.

“I would hope so,” Cas winks as he takes Dean’s hand in his. “I love you too, Dean.”

Eventually Hael strolls up followed by Gadreel holding a large bouquet of differing flowers, the most prominent being yellow primroses.

The young girl’s eyes narrow as she notices the squashed flower in her brother’s hand. “Henry, you broke the pretty flower; now no one will want it.”

“Not tue.” Dean’s nephew replies, his eyes getting misty from harming such a lovely thing.  “Unca Dee wikes it.”  With Henry’s miniature hand holding the crumpled bud up to Dean’s lips, there is nothing to do but kiss the sweet boy’s knuckles.

He goes to answer, but Cas beats him to it, “I have found that even the most broken of things can be mended with time and love.”

To illustrate his point, Castiel takes the sad little primrose and tucks it behind his ear, “Now, doesn’t this look nice?”

“My fower make Unca Cas pretty.” Henry smiles so big and proud.  Dean is speechless. The yellow bud against his husband’s hair is stunning.

Hael rolls her eyes. “Yes, Uncle Cas looks handsome. Who wants to play in the fort?” she screams, running away with Gadreel quietly lumbering behind her.

“Fort!” Henry squeals leaping from Dean’s lap.

Last summer Dean built a wooden fort in the backyard for his niece and nephew. Just a little two story shack with a draw bridge, but man do those kids think it’s the best thing since sliced bread.  If the structure happens to be large enough to accommodate grown men, nobody mentions it.  Over the entrance painted in white is written, _Peter Pan lives here._ Cas felt it appropriate.

The two men lean back into the wooden bench, Dean squeezing their connected hands. “You do look gorgeous, Cas.”

A blush paints against his husband’s cheeks as his gaze wanders out over the fields, “Are you happy, Dean? Living here with our own brood of Lost Boys?”

No hesitation, no thoughts, Dean responds completely on instinct, “Yes, without a doubt, but I don’t think lost boys really works anymore.”

“Really?” Cas asks his bright blue eyes finally turning back towards Dean.  “Why?”

“We’ve all been found.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take a moment and thank the hard working ladies who made this story possible. WinchestersRaven - you are the best beta/cheerleader a girl could have, big hugs my sweet friend, MoniJune – your ability to make my words readable is amazing as are you. I <3 my editing fairy, and Whataboutthefish – you kick my ass and call me out and I love you for it.
> 
> Thank you also to all my readers. I love taking this journey with you and I hope you do too. My next WIP will start at the end of September. A Destiel ABO with Alpha Cas and Omega Dean predominantly set in the Bahamas. See you then my lovelies.


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